


honor roll

by electricvallie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Past Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Slow Burn, but like we been knew, eventually, it's a little more complicated than that oops, just the canon stuff, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricvallie/pseuds/electricvallie
Summary: [It’s only the second week of school and Zuko is already failing AP Calc.Okay, maybe he isn’t technically failing, but a B on his first test might as well be an F, in the eyes of both his GPA and his father. Zuko absolutely cannot get a B in AP Calc. He can’t even get an A-minus. If he doesn’t keep his perfect GPA (a 4.56, to be exact) and become valedictorian (or at least salutatorian), Zuko knows he can kiss any chance of ever proving himself goodbye. That isn’t an option.]Or:Zuko needs a math tutor.Enter Sokka, a math and science prodigy, who agrees to help Piandao with tutoring to thank him for writing such great letters of recommendation.In theory, it would work out perfectly. There's only one issue:They can't stand each other.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 261





	1. august - part 1

**Author's Note:**

> see the end notes for list of tws and my author's note!

It’s only the second week of school and Zuko is already failing AP Calc. 

Okay, maybe he isn’t technically failing, but a B on his first test might as well be an F, in the eyes of both his GPA and his father. Zuko absolutely cannot get a B in AP Calc. He can’t even get an A-minus. If he doesn’t keep his perfect GPA (a 4.56, to be exact) and become valedictorian (or at least salutatorian), Zuko knows he can kiss any chance of ever proving himself goodbye. That isn’t an option. 

What is an option, Zuko decides, is asking Mr. Piandao if he can do anything to make up the missed points on the exam. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Piandao doesn’t quite understand why he needs an A so badly and Zuko doesn’t really want to explain what happened to him last time he got a B. Well, he supposes Piandao has already heard it. At least, he’s heard the watered-down, fabricated version that CPS and all of his teachers did about why Zuko started living with his uncle and, more noticeably, why he came back to school after summer break with a scar covering his eye and a less-than-pleasant disposition. But he can’t explain what really happened. He’s not sure Mr. Piandao would even believe him if he did. 

Forcing himself to snap out of his own head, Zuko refocuses on Mr. Piandao. 

“Zuko, you’re an excellent student. Getting a B on the first test is amazing! In fact, you got the second-highest score in the class on this test. You should be proud of yourself.” Mr. Piandao is encouraging, but Zuko doesn’t feel very reassured. 

“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do? Could I come here for tutoring during lunch or after school?” Zuko is practically pleading with him at this point, which would normally be embarrassing but Zuko is too stressed about his life potentially being ruined to care very much. Mr. Piandao taps his pen to his chin thoughtfully. He then goes to his computer and begins typing.

“I’m always happy to help, Zuko,” Mr. Piandao clicks a few more times. “The only problem seems to be our schedules. You have C lunch and I teach a class during that period, and I wouldn’t want you to skip your zero hour to come.” Mr. Piandao must sense how much this is causing Zuko to internally panic, looking up from his computer screen and giving Zuko a sympathetic smile. “So there are two things we can do,”

Zuko perks up. 

“Either we can try to meet a couple times after school each week, or I can connect you with a student who could tutor you during C lunch.” Mr. Piandao says. Zuko is so relieved he might cry. Or scream. Or both. Both sounds nice, actually. 

At first, meeting with Mr. Piandao seems like the obvious choice, but then Zuko remembers all his after school commitments (Drama Club, Mock Trial, Model UN, in that order of priority). He also can’t forget working at the Jasmine Dragon. Or the fact that he’d feel awful keeping Piandao here even later. So it looks like he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll-uh, I’m pretty busy after school, so I’ll try the lunch tutoring first, if that’s okay.” Piandao smiles at him.

“Of course that’s okay Zuko. And you’re always welcome to email me if you’re having issues.” Zuko attempts to say thanks, but instead of words a shuddering breath comes out, as the tension in his shoulders slightly eases. He settles for a nod. “I’ll let Sokka know and have him give you an email!” Zuko freezes for a second, but forces himself out of it.

“Great...uh...great, thank you.” He ducks his head and gives Piandao an awkward half-wave as he all but scrambles out of the classroom. Once he’s in the hallway, Zuko slumps back against a row of lockers, hanging his head as he groans. He’s glad everyone else has cleared out of the school by now (save the freshmen making out near the bathroom, but they’re far too, uh, consumed, with each other to notice his dramatics).

Of course his new math tutor is Sokka. Sokka who is captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-liked people in school. Sokka who runs a martial arts club with his girlfriend(?) and wears tank tops to school without getting dress coded. 

He should’ve known it would be Sokka. Mr. Piandao loves him, partially due to his almost-supernatural abilities at math and partially because he’s just, likable. 

There’s no way this won’t be an absolute disaster. So Zuko allows himself to be absolutely overdramatic in the math hallway because it’s his Agni-given right. Because Sokka also happens to hate his guts. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Sokka isn’t sure what to think when Mr. Piandao asks him if he can tutor one of his AP Calc students. 

He had just finished at soccer practice when he got the email notification, momentarily pausing as he packed up his things.  
At first, Sokka thinks, there’s no way he’s going to do it. It’s his senior year! And giving up one of his precious, precious C lunches with all of his best friends is not something he particularly wants to do. Besides, Sokka’s sure Piandao will understand, even if he feels a bit guilty about saying no after Piandao wrote so many recommendation letters for him. Okay, maybe a bit more than a bit. Great, Sokka thinks, he’s officially thought himself into feeling supremely guilty. 

By the time he got home, Sokka found himself extremely conflicted about the decision for no apparent reason. Granted, this was his default state of being a lot of the time, but still. 

He was still ruminating on his bed about an hour later, when Katara barged into his room in a huff.

“Sokka!” At the sound of his sister’s irritated voice, he snapped out of his reverie.

“Katara!” He mimicked her tone playfully. Katara rolled her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed. “What’s up?”

“I should be asking you that considering I can hear you blasting Adele from my room.” 

“Hey, don’t come for Adele! It’s my thinking music.” 

“Can you think a little quieter?” Katara’s scowl softens. She crosses the room, leaving the doorway to plop down on the edge of Sokka’s bed. “What’s got you all wound up anyways?”

Sokka shrugs. “Piandao asked me if I could tutor a student during lunch, and I don’t want to miss time with you guys, but I kinda owe him one.” Katara raises an eyebrow.

“Weren’t you just saying that you needed more volunteer hours? If you can get it to count then you won’t feel as bad about missing lunch.” Sokka feels a surge of love for his sister’s ability to put everything in perspective. Normally he’s the designated “idea guy” of the group, but when it comes to Sokka’s own life, no one gives better advice than Katara. 

“Katara, this is why you’re my favorite sister!” Sokka can feel himself visibly brightening. 

“I’m your only sister!” Sokka grins, ignoring her reply.

“Now you can go back to being disgustingly in-love with Aang in peace, no more Adele! I’m switching the tunes immediately!” 

“I’m not--ugh! Whatever! You’re the disgusting one!” Katara throws her hands up in indignation as she leaves Sokka’s room. The air around him feels lighter now that he’s solved his moral quandary for the day. As he types his reply to Piandao, Sokka hopes that whoever he’s assigned to tutor isn’t completely useless. He hopes he isn’t completely useless as a tutor. Oh god, what if he can’t help them learn. Or worse, that they don’t appreciate his math puns. Or they hate his music. If they do, Sokka might have to resign. He’s not sure he could work with someone so uncultured. 

___________________________________________________________________________________

Zuko doesn’t tell his father about the tutoring. He can’t. There’s absolutely no way that Ozai Sozin would take that information in stride, and Zuko is not particularly in the mood to face his father’s wrath. 

When Mr. Piandao emails him to let him know that Sokka agreed to tutor him during lunch, Zuko audibly sighs in relief. 

This relief lasts all of five seconds, until Zuko reminds himself that him and Sokka don’t exactly get along.

Okay, that's an understatement: they don’t get along at all. 

This is almost entirely Zuko’s doing and he’s well aware of it. He just doesn’t have time for friends. Or even acquaintances. Although now he’s wishing he’d made at least one. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to get tutored by a guy who hates him. Well, to be honest, he isn’t sure that Sokka hates him but Zuko knows that his sister does. Ever since Zuko was an asshole to Aang and also probably because of his father’s company, Katara has made it well-known that she hates him. Sokka is, at the very least, content to go along with it. Who is he kidding, Sokka definitely hates him.

Zuko never bothered to explain why he was such an asshole for the first few years of high school. Partly because he’s still kind of an asshole (but now with added self-awareness and less unwarranted vitriol towards others) and partly because doing so would require him to actually tell people about all the ways his life fell apart, about his scar, about his father—

No, Zuko thinks, there’s no way he’s going to do that. He especially doesn’t want to explain himself to Sokka. Sokka, who was the only person competing with Zuko for valedictorian. Sokka, who could potentially be the reason Zuko gets kicked out. 

Okay, maybe that wouldn’t actually be Sokka’s fault, but it wouldn’t matter. Because, at best, Zuko would be out on the streets and at worst, he wouldn’t be anywhere but a wooden box in the ground. 

Sokka is quite possibly the most annoying person to be competing with for the excessively-coveted class rank 1, Zuko thinks. He is annoyingly good at math and science, and even worse, genuinely seems to enjoy them. Really, Sokka is good at pretty much everything. In AP Lit last year he would come up with the most obscure theories and analysis of whatever book they were reading and still somehow find a way to make it make sense, offering Ms. Kyoshi a grin and some stupid pun about the book that would make the whole class laugh. Well, the whole class except for Zuko. (Okay, so maybe he laughed once, but that’s no one’s business but his own). (Okay maybe it was more than once. The jokes were funny. Sue him).

“Why do you know so much about him anyways?” Mai asks him when he calls her to complain. Her tone has little inflection, but Zuko knows her well enough to know she isn’t being accusatory. Mai is one of his oldest friends. Honestly she’s probably his best friend (and also his ex-girlfriend, but that’s neither here nor there). 

“Because he’s the one thing standing between me and not getting kicked out,” Zuko grumbles. The “or worse” goes unsaid. He can practically hear Mai rolling her eyes through the phone.

“You’re so dramatic. Besides, Sokka isn’t horrible, you’ll be fine.” With Mai, that’s practically a glowing endorsement, but it does little to make Zuko feel better. 

“I can’t just be “fine” I have to be perfect! You know how my father is,” Zuko’s voice grows quiet at the end, the line going dead. Mai doesn’t say anything because she does, in fact, know how his father is. And she isn’t one to give him false hope or platitudes of reassurance that get Zuko nowhere. “I’m basically just biding my time,” Zuko says bitterly. “There’s no way Sokka will get anything other than perfect grades and I can’t even get an A on a math test.”

“Maybe he’ll be a great tutor. If he’s as smart as you say then he must be, right?” Mai offers. Zuko highly doubts that. Even more than that, he highly doubts Sokka will still want to help after he realizes it’s Zuko he’s tutoring. But for the moment, he allows himself to pretend the comfort he feels isn’t inevitably going to get ripped out from underneath him. 

“I wish you could just tutor me,” Zuko sighs. The sharp sound of Mai’s laughter crackles through his phone speaker.

“Oh please, I’m just as useless at math as you are. Ty Lee still has to teach me everything.” The fondness in Mai’s voice as she says Ty Lee’s name is not lost on Zuko, but he knows better than to bring it up. Besides, he’ll have plenty of time to annoy Mai about her crush after he stops being an abject failure at life. If he ever stops. More pressingly, he has a shift to get to, bidding Mai goodbye as he heads downstairs. 

Zuko is noticeably on autopilot throughout his entire shift. He’s sure his uncle can tell, but he doesn’t say anything. So Zuko continues to ruminate as he serves the tea, mentally going over all the possible ways Sokka could tell him, in more or less words, to go fuck himself. Hopefully it’ll be quick and painless. That thought leaves as soon as it comes. Zuko knows he’d never be that lucky.

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s 6:15 the next morning when Sokka’s beat-up, 2000 Honda CR-V rolls up to Suki’s house, Aang and Katara already giving each other annoyingly-in-like glances in the backseat. Sokka can barely keep his eyes open. Not only is it objectively too early for any normal human being to function, but a lost bet to Suki means he now owes her rides to and from school for the next week and has to sacrifice an extra 15 minutes of precious, precious sleep each morning to add her house to their normal pickup commute. 

Of course, the fact that both of them have to get to school early for morning practice doesn’t help. But at least eighty percent of the time, soccer is enough fun to make up for it. Especially morning practices, when the boys and girls teams run drills together. Which, for Sokka, means getting his ass kicked by Suki in drills.

This isn’t exactly a rare phenomenon, since Suki also kicks his ass during Kyoshi Warriors’ practices, the martial arts group Suki and some of her friends started at school. But Sokka doesn’t mind. Honestly, Suki’s general badassery is what made Sokka fall head over heels for her back in freshman year. And even still, 2 years after they decided they’d be better as friends, Sokka can feel himself giving Suki heart eyes everytime she scores a particularly awesome goal or wins a sparring match. She’s just amazing.

Sokka tells her as much when she slides into the passenger seat, which Suki responds to by handing him a coffee and rolling her eyes. 

“I’ll say it again Suki, you’re the best!” Sokka’s tone is theatrical but his compliment is sincere.  
“Oh, I know,” Suki smirks back at him “Now get your head out of the clouds and start driving! Captains can’t be late!”

“Ay ay, captain! Full steam ahead to the Beifong residence!” Sokka gives her a lazy mock-salute before pressing the gas, beginning the final stint of their morning commute. He can feel Katara rolling her eyes at him from the backseat. 

The Beifong Estate is surprisingly close to school, the gate that grants entry to the property lying only five minutes from the parking lot where Sokka has his assigned spot. 

Of course, Toph doesn’t actually need to get a ride with Sokka and Co. In fact, her parents would probably prefer if she didn’t. But Tui and La help anyone who tried to tell Toph Beifong what to do, her parents included. 

So Toph rode with them, a little bit out of spite for the fact that her parents constantly attempted to send her with a driver, but mostly for the fact that she wanted to see them. Even if she’d die before admitting it. 

She’s already waiting outside the gate when Sokka pulls up to it, a scowl fixed on her face as she kicks at the loose gravel on the pathway. As soon as Sokka presses the horn, leading Aang and Katara to groan, Toph starts bounding over towards them, hopping in the door that Aang opens for her. 

“You’re late Snoozles.” She says as she enters. 

“I had to get my beauty sleep, Toph! This magic doesn’t happen on its own!” He gestures to himself. She scoffs.

“I don’t have to see to know you’re full of shit.” Sokka gasps in mock offense. “I bet you have the worst bags under your eyes right now.”

“You should’ve seen him last night,” Katara chimes in. Sokka has never more wished his sister was born with a mute button. Or at least volume control. Maybe an emoji-only option where she would just make facial expressions and not recount his moral quandaries to the car full of all their friends.

“Katara!” He chimes, but it’s too late. Suki is already giving him a questioning look, Aang’s eyes are full of sympathy and Toph is cackling. Sokka groans. “You’re officially disowned. Better hope Aang will take you in because you’ve forsaken your own brother!” He throws his hand to his chest dramatically, acting as if he’s been stabbed in the heart.,,

“Oh please,” Katara rolls her eyes. “Sokka was laying on his floor listening to Adele for at least two hours yesterday before I intervened.” Sokka scoffs at this.

“It wasn’t two hours! It was more like one and a half.” 

“Right, because two would be ridiculous.” Suki muses.

“Yes! Thank you, Suki!” His eyes are on the road but he can tell everyone is rolling their eyes at him. Well, everyone except Aang. He’s pretty sure Aang couldn’t be mean if his life depended on it. That kid is sunshine personified. 

As Sokka pulls into his assigned parking space, absent-mindely discussing the merits of different crisis music (Aang agrees with him that Adele is ideal for pondering your life choices, while Toph swears by some heavy-metal band he’s unfamiliar with, Suki’s go-to is Phoebe Bridgers, and Katara thinks Taylor Swift is by far the best breakdown music).

After waving goodbye to the rest of their friends, Sokka and Suki head towards the soccer fields, which sit a little ways behind the school. They’re early, despite running late, since they’re both in charge of setting up drills for the teams. 

The two of them have practically got morning drills down to a science: Suki gets the soccer balls from the shed while Sokka sets up the orange cones at four different stations. After they finish this, they usually have enough time to run a couple laps around the track that surrounds the field. Today is no exception.

“So,” Suki says, knowingly. “You wanna tell me about this crisis of yours?” Sokka scowls.

“It wasn’t actually a crisis, Katara was just being dramatic.” 

“Uh-huh, it must run in the family,” Suki deadpans. Sokka gasps in mock offense.

“You wound me, Suki. I’ve never been dramatic a day in my life,” They’re on their third lap by now, jogging in effortless unison with each other. They run another half-lap in comfortable silence before Suki speaks again.

“If there is something bothering you, you know you can talk to me about it, right?” Suki’s voice is genuine. 

Sokka nods. “Of course I know, Suks,” He smiles at her. “And the same goes for you!” There’s a pause as they finish up their fourth lap, coming to a slow stop. They make their way over to the middle of the field to start stretching. “Piandao asked me to help tutor one of his students, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it or not,” Suki nods thoughtfully. 

“Wasn’t sure if you wanted to or wasn’t sure if you could?” She asks. Sokka has to think for a moment.

“Both, I guess. I’m not sure I’ll be any good at teaching someone, but I wanted to help Piandao out since he’s helped me so much, ya know?” Sokka rambles. Suki pauses her stretching to come over to Sokka, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sokka, you’ll be great. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.” Sokka smiles back at her.

“I-yeah, I hope so,” He attempts to turn his tone casual again as he goes on. “I wonder who the student is,” 

“Hopefully whoever it is likes your math puns,” Suki jokes. Sokka gives her an overly-dramatic, solemn look.

“If they don’t, I might have to resign.” The air around Sokka feels a lot lighter as the teams start filing into the field and practice begins. His aura of confidence (while sometimes faked) exudes itself easily as he guides his teammates through drills. Suki is probably right. He’ll probably be okay during tutoring. He’ll probably not be incompetent or embarass himself or disappoint Piandao. Who knows? He might even get a new friend out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws: references to child abuse (canon), character(s) experiencing anxiety (will be explored more later, but this chapter it's mostly alluded to)
> 
> author's note!
> 
> hi all!! ahhh i can't believe i'm posting this. my first fic on ao3! sorry if it's bad, i haven't done long-form creative writing in a hot second.
> 
> but yes! lmk what you think! pls be nice!!
> 
> -vallie


	2. august - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka has a day full of moderate inconveniences, Zuko gets tutored, Suki and Toph carry the only braincells (or something like that).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see my end notes for potential tws and my author's note!

By third period, Sokka needs approximately two cold brews and a three-to-five business days break from life. 

It’s a Wednesday, which is in itself a crime against humanity. But for some reason, after morning practice, everything had decided to go to shit in the most moderately inconvenient ways. 

First, it was the showers being the temperature of literally ice in the locker room. Which, by itself, wouldn’t have been that bad. Honestly, Sokka didn’t mind cold showers. But in combination with everything else, it became the first scoop of ice cream in his self-declared misery sundae of a day.

Then, the coffee Sokka had carefully prepared and brought with him in his thermos (made with two sugars and a splash of oat milk, of course) spilled all over his shirt because someone hit him with their locker door while he was walking down the hallway.

So, Sokka spent the last ten minutes before his first class attempting to get the coffee stains out of his shirt and then proceeding to angle himself under the hand dryer in an attempt to dry his shirt. It was largely unsuccessful. He’s very glad no one was there to witness it. Unfortunately, that seems to be the extent of his luck for the day.

He’s already thoroughly disgruntled when he finally reaches his AP Art class, a mere thirty seconds before the late bell rings. As Sokka scrambles to take his seat next to Aang, he can feel his teacher’s glare on his back. Ugh. 

“Sokka!” Aang whisper-yells, eyes widening as he takes in Sokka’s disastrous appearance. “What happened?” Across the table from them, Jin and Haru also give him curious looks. He sighs before jumping into a melodramatic retelling of the day's events thus far in a hushed voice, careful not to be too loud. If there’s one thing Ms. Hirah hates more than Sokka’s artwork, it’s loud talking during work time. Aang offers him a sympathetic smile.

“At least you have Kyoshi Warriors practice after school!” Aang chirps. “That’s something to look forward to!” Aang attempt to motivate him is both effective and correct. Sokka can tell he visibly brightens at the statement. 

“Besides,” Jin chimes in from across the table, “There’s no way Ms. Hirah will think your self-portrait is worse than Haru’s,” Sokka peers over the table to look at the aforementioned drawing.

“Haru, why did you give yourself a mustache?” Sokka’s voice is incredulous, and he can’t help the quiet laughter that escapes him. Neither can Aang and Jin. 

“I thought it made me look rugged,” Haru shrugs, not seeming to mind the group’s laughter. 

Sokka shakes his head in disbelief. “It isn’t even a good mustache!” He exclaims. The others’ laughter grows. 

After art class the day almost seems to be going better. Sure, he might have forgotten about an AP Lang reading and had to completely bullshit his way through the Socratic seminar, but that’s all in a day's work for a first-semester senior. Especially one taking seven APs. Which is exactly why disruptions to his schedule were so catastrophic. Sokka had his days planned down to the minute.

Sokka should’ve known better than to accept his temporary uplifted mood. It’s a well-accepted fact of his that once a day is bad, there isn’t much that can be done to change it. The course is already set. The ship has sailed. The boomerang has already been thrown and is on its way back to hit him in the head. 

It’s just after his third period (AP Stats with Piandao) when it hits him. Normally, this class is his favorite. Math is one of those things that just fits in his brain. It makes the world feel like it's buzzing because everything makes sense when he’s doing it. And Piandao is by far the best teacher Sokka has ever had. So it shouldn’t send him into a spiral when Piandao asks him to stay after for a few moments. It shouldn’t freak him out when Piandao starts telling him about an engineering program he wants Sokka to apply for. Or the scholarship that goes with it. Or the potential internship he can connect Sokka to. 

Objectively these are all great things. And the logical part of Sokka’s brain knows this. But that doesn’t stop the rest of it from going into absolute panic. As soon as he leaves Piandao’s classroom he can feel it itching, creeping from the back of his neck into his skull. He can’t breathe. Or think about his future and all the people he’s going to disappoint and all the things he isn’t good enough at. And, oh fuck, he can’t breathe. This absolutely cannot be happening right now. 

Sokka somehow makes his way to a bathroom and locks himself in a stall. He tries the deep breathing thing he saw in a YouTube video. He tries it twice. It doesn’t do much. 

He isn’t sure what snaps him out of it (to be honest, he isn’t sure he really does snap out of it). Only that a significant amount of time has passed and he is probably late for something. A quick glance at the time reveals that, not only has Sokka missed fourth period, he now has approximately one minute and thirty seconds to compose himself and sprint to the library for this damn tutoring session. 

A quick splash of water on his face and two-flights of stairs later, Sokka makes it to the doors of the library. He’s breathing heavily, partially from the sprinting but mostly from the residual anxiety leeching itself onto his body. 

As he enters the library, placing his water bottle on the designated table so Wan Shi Tong doesn’t kick him out (again), Sokka realizes that he has no idea who he’s supposed to be looking for. Or where they’re supposed to be meeting. Shit. Sokka should’ve thought about this beforehand.

Making his way over to one of the empty tables, Sokka plops his backpack down on the floor and sits in one of the chairs. And, because he’s absolutely had it with this piece of shit day, proceeds to fold his arms and drop his head into them dramatically. 

Sokka sits like that for a few minutes, semi-peacefully, until he hears someone moving in his periphery. He waits a few more minutes until it becomes painfully clear that, whoever it is, is standing right in front of him. This must be the student he’s tutoring, Sokka figures. 

Lifting his head, Sokka eyes widen, then narrow only an instant later. 

“Zuko?”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Zuko wasn’t quite sure what he thought Sokka’s reaction to him showing up to tutoring would be, but the minute-and-a-half of silent glaring and bewilderment isn’t far off from what his guess would’ve been, if he had made one. 

“Are you done?” Zuko attempts to keep his tone neutral, but it comes out clipped and annoyed. It does, however, snap Sokka out of his reverie. Sokka scowls at him.

“Of course I’m tutoring you,” Zuko furrows his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms.

“Oh, just that the universe hates me and everything is going to shambles, so of course you’re here!” Sokka shoots back bitterly, “Why do you even need tutoring? Don’t you have, like, perfect grades?” Zuko could remind Sokka that he, too, has perfect grades. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he matches Sokka’s bitterness with his own. “The feeling of cosmic punishment is mutual, believe me.” For a second, Zuko contemplates turning on his heel and beelining it out of the library. But he really does need help if he wants any chance at getting an A on the next test. Zuko clears his throat. “If you’re done melodramatically cursing my existence, I could use some help with vectors.” His tone is less hostile this time but it does little to lighten the mood. Sokka rolls his eyes.

“Sure, yeah, let’s do that,” Zuko isn’t stupid. He knows Sokka would like nothing better than for him to call the whole thing off and let both of them go on their merry ways, hating each other from afar. Truthfully, he’d like that as well. And yet, something possesses him to plop his bag on the ground and settle himself into the seat across from Sokka. 

He pulls out all his math materials and sets them out on the table before looking at Sokka again. The other boy is still scowling at him. Zuko takes a deep, hidden breath. He matches the glare, raising an eyebrow at Sokka.

The library is silent. Zuko swears he can practically hear Sokka fuming. He gives it one minute. Then another. Then a third. He’s about to say something, but Sokka gets there first.

“Let me see how you did it on the test,” He isn’t making eye contact with Zuko, his steely gaze redirected to a shelf of books behind Zuko’s left shoulder (what did the cookbooks ever do to Sokka, he wonders). 

Zuko is momentarily caught off-guard. He hadn’t expected Sokka to, well, actually help him. But he takes the olive branch (it’s really more like an olive pit, an olive leaf at best, Zuko figures) and rifles through his papers to find said test, which is then handed over.

It’s quiet again while Sokka looks through Zuko’s test. Zuko can feel himself getting nervous, his hands growing clamier with each passing moment, but he pushes it down. He can’t let Sokka think he’s actually worried. Sokka is his competition, his only competition, for valedictorian. Zuko can’t let himself look weak. No way. So he suppresses any nausea he feels when he thinks about what his father’s reaction to all of this would be and sits silently. 

“You really didn’t do that badly, you just mixed up the last couple steps,” Sokka’s voice cuts through his rumination. “Here, look at problem six…” 

Sokka launches into a spiel about the proper formulation of vectors, scribbling out the correct solutions to the problems Zuko missed and explaining what he did wrong.And Zuko hates to admit it (in fact, he wouldn’t admit it to anyone except himself), but Sokka is a really good teacher. For some reason, his verbose, detailed breakdown makes so much more sense to Zuko than Piandao’s lesson on the topic did a week prior. 

It feels like only seconds later that the first bell rings, students around them beginning to shuffle out of the library as C lunch comes to a close. Sokka starts packing up his things too, still in the middle of a long-winded description about how to determine a vector’s magnitude and direction. 

Zuko isn’t quite sure what to do. He knows he should say thank you. Maybe say something about how much Sokka has helped him in just one lunch period. But he can’t. He doesn’t think Sokka would even want to hear that from him. Or believe him when he said it. 

“...does that make sense?” Sokka’s question brings him back to the present moment. 

“Yes, ” Zuko’s reply is short and succinct, “it does.” He doesn’t make eye contact with Sokka, starting to pack away all his papers, which had gotten strewn about the table in the process of one of Sokka’s explanations. Sokka has all of his things together but he stays seated, looking at Zuko expectantly, as if he’s waiting for him to say something. 

Zuko stares back blankly. Sokka’s scowl returns.

“Would it kill you to say thank you? Or like, I don’t know, be nice?” He spits, then, before Zuko can say anything, rambles on, “No, you know what, don’t answer that. I shouldn’t even be surprised. I don’t know why I thought you might suddenly not be a complete asshole, as if you haven’t been the literal worst to everyone since you started school here. ” 

Zuko shouldn’t be hurt. Nothing Sokka’s saying is untrue. But for some reason it still stings, forming itself into a cold, bitter feeling that sits in the back of Zuko’s throat. He wants to say something, but he can’t bring himself to. The resentment he feels is acidic and almost-entirely directed inwards. At least Sokka isn’t yelling. Not that he could in the library, but still. 

“Whatever, jerk.” Sokka stands up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder expertly, “Same time next week. Don’t be late.” 

And with that he’s gone, leaving Zuko, still reeling from whatever just happened, alone in the library. 

Mostly, he can’t believe that Sokka is actually going to keep tutoring him. Zuko can’t decide if this fact makes him want to rip his hair out or cry in relief. So he does neither. 

He does, however, sit for one minute longer. He breathes. Inhale. Exhale. The moment is calm, but it is just a moment. No amount of calm moments stolen in the library can compare to the storm Zuko feels brewing in and around him. But, he supposes, it does make the days slightly more bearable. 

_____________________________________________________________________________ 

Sokka is three-hundred percent sure that Suki can tell something is up.  
For one, she’s incredibly perceptive. He’s half convinced Suki can read people’s minds (“If I could, I wouldn’t tell you,” is what she said when Sokka asked her about it, which only made him more suspicious. He’s compiling evidence). But mostly, it’s that she knows him better than pretty much anyone. Perks of being best friends with your ex-girlfriend, Sokka supposes.  
Although right now it doesn’t feel like much of a perk, because the ex-girlfriend-slash-best-friend in question keeps shooting him knowing looks from across the sparring mat. 

He doesn’t want to talk about it, though. At least not right now. He just wants to stew in his own misery for a little bit.

Luckily, practice with the Kyoshi Warriors doesn’t require talking. Just punching. And kicking. And some super fun fancy fan moves (If Suki ever heard him call it that she’d have his head but it’s true). 

The two of them run the club, which Suki and a couple of her friends started during their freshman year, together. 

Sokka can’t believe his freshman self was ever dumb enough to question Suki’s skills.(Suki then proceeded to, quite literally, beat the misogynistic assumptions out of him and 15-year-old Sokka had decided, then and there, that he was in love with her). He still gets the chills watching her compete at tournaments.

Suki’s general badassery aside, Sokka can’t wait until practice is over so he can go home. Normally Kyoshi Warriors practice is his favorite part of the week. But today, Sokka just wants to go to sleep so his luck can reset. Or maybe he won’t go home. A drive could help him decompress. But he also doesn’t want to pay for gas.

This, he decides, is all Zuko’s fault. Because it’s only when Sokka, after finishing a couple more sparring exercises, jogs over to his backpack to grab a drink of water that he realizes he left his bottle on the table in the library. He had been so wrapped up in being pissed at Zuko while making his exit that grabbing it completely slipped his mind.

“Tui and La help me,” he grumbles under his breath. He looks at the ceiling, as if Tui and La themselves can somehow hear him. If they can, they must be laughing at him, Sokka decides. He probably does look pretty ridiculous, so he can’t really blame them.

“Okay everyone! I’m going to call practice for today!” He hears Suki chirp from behind him. “I know it’s been an overwhelming first few weeks, so try and get some rest if you can!” The rest of the girls share looks of relief, quietly chatting with each other. Sokka’s expression mirrors theirs.  
He makes his way back over towards Suki to help her start cleaning everything so they can put it away. Sokka knows an interrogation will inevitably follow, but he’s too relieved to finally be done with the day to care much. 

Sure enough, as soon as the last of the girls have bid their goodbyes and filed out of the gym, Suki stops what she’s doing almost instantly and comes to stand next to Sokka.

“Spill,” Her arms are crossed. Sokka doesn’t say anything for a moment, continuing to break down the sparring dummy he had been working on. “Sokka, c’mon, I could hear you brooding,” He looks up at her and sighs.

“I just had a shitty day, Suks,” Sokka isn’t going to elaborate, he swears. That is, until a flash of anger reminds him. “Oh, and remember how I had that tutoring thing today?” Suki nods. “Yeah, well turns out the student Piandao was talking about is Zuko!” Suki’s eyes widen.

“Zuko? I didn’t realize he struggled with...well, anything” 

“That’s what I said! And he’s somehow just as insufferable as he was freshman year! Like, you’d think a couple of years might make the guy grow up but no. He’s still just as pretentious and entitled as ever,” Sokka huffs. 

“Sokka?” He looks up at her.

“Yes Suki?” His tone is teasing. Her’s is not.

“Being all,” she gestures to him, “prickly towards him won’t make things any better.”

“I know,” Sokka’s reply is quiet.

“You don’t have to forgive him, or be best friends with him or anything. But it might make your life a little easier if you guys bury the hatchet for 50 minutes every Wednesday.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” He tries to take the tone of resignation out of his voice, but he’s sure it still finds its way in. Suki places her hands on his shoulders reassuringly before pulling him into a hug. 

“It’ll be okay,” she affirms. Sokka wishes he felt the same. They finish cleaning up in comfortable silence.

As they gather their belongings and begin the short walk to the parking lot, Sokka can feel an air of dread settling inside of him. He isn’t quite sure where it’s from, but it’s there all the same.

It’s still there after he drops Suki off at her house, bidding her a less-than-enthusiastic goodbye and proceeding to sit in his parked car for two minutes. He wishes there was someone he could talk to about this. About how he just wants to be angry at Zuko for a while. How he doesn’t particularly feel like being the bigger person. How he doesn’t want to always have to be cracking jokes and smiling easily. 

But Sokka just, doesn’t talk to people about these things. The closest he ever comes is with Suki, but even then, Sokka never lets himself fully vent. It’s not Suki’s problem. It’s not anyone’s problem but his. 

Besides, Sokka doesn’t want anyone to waste their time worrying about him. He is fine, really (it sounds like a lie even as a thought in his head). But right now, Sokka decides, he isn’t quite ready to go home to Katara and Gran-Gran.

He misses his dad intensely.

(He misses his mom but doesn’t dare acknowledge the thought). 

Mostly, Sokka misses when he didn’t worry so much. He misses a life he’s never had. A life where his family hasn’t been struck with tragedy. Where his dad comes home more and his mom comes home at all. Where he can talk to people about these things without worrying about how they’ll react or if they’ll see him differently or—

Yeah, no, Sokka isn’t ready to go home.

So he doesn’t. Instead he just drives, and drives, and drives. He listens to music. He never stops for long enough to let himself think.

_____________________________________________________________________________ 

Zuko’s shift had been passing rather uneventfully. In the two hours since he had clocked in, the Jasmine Dragon had only seen a handful of customers. This was fairly typical for a Wednesday night and also precisely the reason why this shift was Zuko’s favorite to work. He didn’t really mind his weekend shifts, but the peaceful nature of weekday evenings was always much appreciated. 

Of course, Zuko’s peace and (relative) quiet comes to an abrupt end when Toph Beifong herself strides into the shop with Appa, her seeing-eye dog, in tow. 

“Howdy, Sparky!” She calls out to him, making her way towards her usual seat at the counter.

“Hi Toph,” Zuko’s voice is significantly quieter than hers. He finishes ringing up one of the other customers before making his way over to her “If you’re looking for Uncle, he isn’t here right now,” 

“I’m not. Besides, I’ve been coming here long enough to know that Wednesdays are his Pai Sho nights,” she smirks, then adds, “You better not burn my tea, though. I’ll tell him if you do!”

Zuko scoffs. “What do you take me for, an amateur? I think I’ve learned a thing or two from Uncle.” Toph laughs.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she quips. Zuko can’t help the small smile that appears on his face as he starts brewing her jasmine tea. 

He’s still shocked sometimes at the fact that him and Toph are actually friends. He shouldn’t be, though. It was kind of inevitable, given the fact that their families run in the same circles. Back when Zuko still went to those kinds of things, he and Toph would end up at the same galas and fundraisers all the time. 

Turns out they had more in common than being disgruntled rich kids. In Zuko’s case, formerly rich, continuously disgruntled. Aside from the year they didn’t talk much (to be fair, Zuko didn’t really talk to anyone that year), the two of them remained close. 

Once Toph finishes her tea Zuko brings it over to her promptly, sliding a lychee scone across the counter with it. Toph grins at him.

“Aw Sparky, you’re too nice,”

“You’re the only one who thinks that, Beifong,” He replies. Toph nods.

“Maybe. Snoozles certainly seems to hate your guts.” Zuko’s face contorts in confusion.

“Snoozles?”

“Sokka,” Toph replies simply, because of course that’s his nickname. Zuko doesn’t even want to know why. “I didn’t know he was tutoring you.”

“It’s a… recent development,” Zuko explains, “I’m sure he told you all about it while he was explaining what an asshole I am,” 

“All he did was send us a text that said ‘Zuko is such a jerk, angry face emoji, angry face emoji, angry face emoji!’” Toph’s exaggerated imitation of Sokka is pretty funny, Zuko has to admit. He groans. Toph continues on, waving a dismissive hand at him. “No need to get all huffy about it,” she says, “Snoozles will come around.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuko graps a rag from one of the shelves and starts wiping down the counters “I just need to get an A in math. Sokka can hate me all he wants.” Toph groans.

“You’re both so dramatic,” she notes, “you’d probably get along if you could stop being such lily-livers about it.” 

Zuko doesn’t reply. He knows he’s proving Toph’s point, but he doesn’t much feel like discussing all the reasons he can’t be friends with Sokka. Or discussing Sokka in general. Luckily, business picks up a bit and he’s dragged away from his conversation with Toph to go serve some customers. 

The hours trickle by slowly until it’s finally dark outside, just Zuko and Toph left in the tea shop. Zuko is recounting a story about a particularly difficult customer to her when his Uncle Iroh walks in.

“Ah, nephew!” His uncle’s voice is jovial. “And Toph!” Toph practically beams at him.

“Hi Uncle!” Toph chirps, “You’ll be happy to hear that Sparky didn’t burn my tea this time,” Zuko shoots her a glare and, even though she can’t see it, he’s sure she can feel it because she shoots a grin right back at him.

“That was one time!” He exclaims. His uncle just chuckles, walking over towards the pair.

“I am happy to hear that, Toph, but I have no doubt in Zuko’s abilities” Iroh replies, “he's my best employee!”  
Zuko scowls. “I’m your only employee, Uncle!” Iroh puts his hands up as he shrugs.

“Still my best!” Zuko rolls his eyes. Toph laughs. 

Walking over to the front window, Zuko checks the clock before flipping the sign on the door to read “Closed.” He scans the shop, attempting to make a mental list of what he still has to clean. Hopefully he can finish quickly enough to still complete his homework. Ideally before 2 in the morning (Who is Zuko kidding, there’s no way he’s going to bed before 2). 

“Zuko, why don’t you give Miss Beifong a ride home? I’ll finish closing up.” His uncle offers him a warm smile. Zuko nods.

Toph waves him off. “My parents already sent the driver to come get me, unfortunately,” she pauses, grinning at Zuko semi-manically, “riding with Sparky is much more fun.” 

He’s not sure which of his many embarrassing driving stories Toph is about to tell his uncle, but a notification from her phone, letting her know that the Beifong family driver has arrived, cuts her off. 

After Toph bids them goodbye, his uncle still insists that he go upstairs (“I can finish the work Zuko,” Iroh says affirmingly, “go get your work done so you can sleep”). After a couple minutes of his uncle insisting, Zuko finally agrees, trudging his way up the back steps that lead to their shared apartment. 

Flopping down on his bed, Zuko closes his eyes. He breathes. He counts to sixty. He gets up. No rest for the wicked, Zuko thinks bitterly, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his first assignment. 

At least, he realizes as he starts scribbling away, the math problems make a little bit more sense tonight. Zuko supposes he has Sokka to thank for that. He briefly wishes he had said as much to the other boy instead of...whatever he did. Zuko shakes his head. He has to stay focused on his end goal. Worrying about what Sokka thinks of him is just a further distraction. Zuko doesn’t need any more distractions. He can’t afford it.

And yet, he finds his mind wandering, every once in a while, back to the library. To Sokka’s sharp glares and hurt eyes. To all the things he wished he could bring himself to say sorry for, but could never even so much as acknowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> potential tws: brief description of a character experiencing anxiety
> 
> hi!!! 
> 
> hope you all are doing well! the boys are being dumb and overdramatic but that's why we love them <3 
> 
> i contemplated having a "hi, zuko here" moment in this chapter but it felt too early. (maybe in a future chapter *wink wink*)
> 
> anyways, sokka is most definitely being harsher than usual, but homeboy had a rough day and also doesn't particularly like zuko (but he'll get there eventually ;) ). 
> 
> this is going to be a stressful week for me (and the USA) but alas, we must trudge ahead
> 
> hope you all enjoy!
> 
> -vallie <3


	3. september - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tutoring, homecoming, and boys being oblivious

By the time next Wednesday came around, Zuko had resolved to try and be nicer to Sokka. 

Well, maybe nicer is an overstatement of his intentions. Rather, the incessant voice of Toph in the back of his head convinced him that having a neutral relationship with the other boy, as opposed to an antagonistic one, would be more beneficial in the long term. As long as he doesn’t get distracted. Or worse, actually become friends with him. Zuko can’t afford to do that. He just has to get an A in math. 

This decision was only amplified by Mai who, when he called her the previous weekend, had given him essentially the same advice as Toph.

(“Zuko,” she had said, “he probably thinks you’re an asshole because you’re being an asshole. Try to maybe tone that down a bit. If you can.” 

Zuko had glared at her when she said this. Mai had just scowled back at him.)

So, as he makes his way through the library shelves towards the table, Zuko attempts to push whatever competitive resentment he feels towards Sokka into a back corner of his mind. Besides, he reminds himself, it isn’t Sokka’s fault that Zuko has so much riding on getting an A in stupid AP Calc. 

When he eventually reaches the table, Zuko is surprised to see Sokka already there, sprawled across a chair with his legs dangling over the arm, deeply engrossed in a book. Well, Zuko supposes now is his chance to try out the being nicer he was talking about.

Zuko clears his throat quietly. “Uh—whatcha reading?” His attempt at casual conversation comes out sounding robotic at best and downright provoking at worst. Sokka narrows his eyes.

“Is this some kind of weird, twisted insult?” Zuko narrows his eyes to match. So much for being cordial, he thinks. 

“No! Why would I—what are you—ugh” Zuko sputters, frustrating evident in his tone, “I just asked what you were reading!” Sokka blinks at him. Once. Twice. Three times. Zuko huffs. Well, his hopes of a less vitriolic relationship were nice while they lasted. Clearly that’s never going to happen, Zuko thinks bitterly. He sighs audibly.

As Zuko awkwardly makes him to the other side of the table, he feels Sokka’s scrutinizing gaze following him. Another moment passes in awkward silence before Sokka speaks again.

“It’s—uh, about combat engineer battalions during World War II,” Sokka’s voice is far less combative, this time. He almost sounds nervous, which catches Zuko off-guard. He hadn’t realized that Sokka ever got nervous. Although, he supposes, everyone gets nervous so that assumption had been frivolous. Regardless, this discovery causes Zuko to bite back any snarky comments he may have made about Sokka being a massive nerd. 

Besides, even though Zuko would never admit it out loud, the fact that he was reading a book like this in his free time really just showed how smart Sokka was. Zuko would never do something like that. He much preferred to read plays, anyways.

Zuko nods his head stiffly in acknowledgement, unsure if he should reply or not. He doesn’t quite know what to say. So instead of saying anything, he turns back to his bag, pulling out all his math work and rooting around for his graphing calculator. 

“We’re working on first derivatives right now,” Zuko offers. He can tell his voice still has a twinge to it, but he truly can’t help it. 

“Okay,” Sokka exhales, pushing down on the table with both of his palms, “let me see where you’re at…” 

As they begin working, the boys fall into a surprisingly effortless rhythm. Sokka explains a topic, Zuko will ask a couple bluntly-worded questions, Sokka will answer them in an oddly comprehensive manner, add in a couple surprisingly funny jokes (although Zuko stubbornly refuses to laugh at them), and then they move on to the next concept. 

“Hey Zuko,” Sokka says after they finish a set of questions.

“What?”

“What’s the first derivative of a cow?” Zuko stares blankly at him. “A Prime Rib!” Sokka stares at him expectantly, a giant grin on his face, but all Zuko can do is blink back at him. Sokka shoots him finger guns.

“...a Prime Rib?” Zuko repeats. Sokka nods, his grin from before now a shy smile. 

(Zuko chooses to ignore how dry his throat gets all of the sudden. He can’t ignore the laughter that rumbles in his chest. Or how Sokka’s smile widens when he hears it).

“You’re so confusing…” Sokka mutters after the moment passes. Zuko can’t help the scowl that appears on his face.

“I’m confusing? Really?”

“Yeah, you are,” Sokka’s voice is casual, but he’s sitting stiffly. “You clearly understand this stuff, you just get mixed up on some of the test questions, which is probably just because Piandao’s test questions are whack.” Zuko wants to say something, but Sokka’s on a roll, “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t need a tutor, not really, but you decided to get one anyways. Which is confusing, because I distinctly remember you almost biting my head off sophomore year when I offered to help you with an AP Chem lab, but now you’re going out of your way to get help...from me,” Sokka shakes his head, “I don’t get it.”

“I—” Zuko stops before he can even get a sentence out because Sokka’s staring straight at him, meeting his eyes with a sincere intensity.

Zuko gulps. He loses whatever train of thought he might’ve had.

He doesn’t know what to say. Because Sokka’s right, it is confusing. And Zuko can’t explain himself. Not without explaining his fixation on his grades and how his father won’t accept anything less than perfection and how Zuko’s face is proof of that—

No, Zuko can’t tell him that. He’s sure Sokka doesn’t really want to know anyways. But a moment passes, and something about the way Sokka is still looking at him, his eyes earnest and brilliantly blue, makes Zuko think that maybe he does. A gnawing, unfamiliar feeling in Zuko’s gut catches him off guard. He can’t identify it, but it makes him reel. He has to put a stop to this, right now. He looks away.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Zuko’s voice is sharp and guilty. He can hear the lie in his words. He’s sure Sokka can too. “And I don’t owe you any explanations.” Zuko lies again, for good measure. 

“Of course you don’t.” Sokka’s tone is steely and eerily professional. 

“Can we just do math?” Zuko’s voice goes quiet.

“Fine by me,” Sokka’s normally-emotive voice is unreadable.

Whatever temporary reprieve they had from their tempestuous relationship is clearly over. At this thought, Zuko feels another weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. Is he sad? He doesn’t have time to think about it, because Sokka is explaining limits to him and all Zuko can think about is why he suddenly cares about what Sokka thinks of him. 

By the time C lunch is over, Zuko still isn’t quite sure what happened.

He’s still musing on it the next day after school as he makes his way across town to play rehearsal.

Normally Zuko isn’t too happy about this drive, but today he relishes in the extra fifteen minutes that he can spend not interacting with other people that the car ride provides him with. 

He isn’t sure exactly what’s bothering him. Zuko has never really minded people not liking him. At least, he didn’t before. In fact, he was pretty used to it. Especially because almost all of the issues were self-made. 

(It had been the second semester of sophomore year. The scar on Zuko’s eye was still fresh. He hated everything and everyone and the world and most of all, himself. 

So he took it out on anyone who talked to him, anyone who even looked in his direction. He had to get perfect grades. He had to impress his father. Sokka was a threat to that. Aang was a threat to that. Zuko had been rude to both of them, and to everyone else).

And, until now, Zuko didn’t really care much about fixing any of the bridges he burned. The only one he had fixed was with Aang, but Zuko couldn’t really take credit for that. It was Aang’s purehearted kindness and forgiving nature that mended their relationship. When Zuko had offered him a stumbly, poorly-worded apology a little while back, Aang had accepted it readily and without question.

It was more than Zuko deserved, he thought. But now, he found himself wondering if Sokka could ever forgive him like Aang had. Because he did remember AP Chem. He remembered Sokka trying to welcome him to the school, offering to help him catch up in the class and to work with him on labs. He remembers being rude and dismissive and downright mean. 

As Zuko pulls into the parking lot outside of the theatre, he finally realizes what he was feeling back in the library.

Remorse.

At least, that’s what he thinks it is. He doesn’t have time to process what caused it or why, after all this time, he suddenly felt the weight of everything he wouldn’t let himself have. Of things he didn’t even realize he wanted.

Zuko pushes the thought to the back of his brain. He has to go to rehearsal. 

(You can’t have Love Amongst the Dragons without the Dark Water Spirit, after all).

___________________________________________________________

By the time the third week of tutoring comes around, Sokka has essentially resigned himself to the fact that this is his life for the next year. And, much to his own surprise, he isn’t actually that mad about it.

Sure, Zuko is kind of prickly (okay that’s an understatement, but Sokka is feeling generous today), but it could be a lot worse. At least he actually tries to learn the concepts and doesn’t just try to get Sokka to do his homework for him. Sokka laughs internally at this thought. He’s pretty sure Zuko wouldn’t let Sokka do his homework if it was a matter of life and death. 

As he’s sitting at what has now become their designated table, waiting for Zuko to arrive, Sokka decides to check up on Katara. She’s out of town for a figure skating competition and, although he’d never tell her (they didn’t really talk about these kinds of things), Sokka always missed her when she left. 

(September 12th, 12:03 P.M)

Sokka: good luck at the comp today!!!! 

Sokka: also place ur bet now, what will zuko yell at me about today lolololol

Sokka can practically feel Katara giving him her motherly glare through the phone as he watches the three dots wiggle while she types her reply.

(September 12th, 12:04 P.M)

Katara: Sokka, I was serious when I said you should tell Piandao about how he’s been acting

Katara: If you want me to go with you to talk to him I can.

Sokka sighs.

(September 12th, 12:05 P.M)

Sokka: katara chill lmao, i meant it when i said i didn’t mind that much

Sokka: besides i think we’re making progress

Sokka: he even laughed at one of my math puns last week :))))))

Katara’s reply is nearly instant.

(September 12th, 12:05 P.M)

Katara: So he’s an asshole and he has no taste? How sad for Zuko :(

Sokka takes it back. He doesn’t miss his sister, not one bit. She’s a traitor. 

(September 12th, 12:06 P.M)

Sokka: rude :(( at least some1 thinks my jokes are funny

Sokka: it really do be ur own sister folks

As footsteps approach the table, Sokka clicks his phone off, sliding it into the front pocket of his backpack.

“Zuko, I’m disowning my sister!” Sokka exclaims dramatically. Zuko looks back at him, unimpressed.

“Why?” 

“She said my jokes were stupid!” He swears that a hint of a smile appears on Zuko’s face.

“But they are stupid.” Sokka scoffs. How dare he. 

“I distinctly remember you laughing at one of my jokes last week, liar! You’re getting disowned too! You and Katara can go be traitors together!”

“I never said they weren’t funny,” Zuko’s voice is serious, but his eyes are teasing, “just stupid.”

Sokka doesn’t know what to say to that. He honestly wasn’t expecting to get this far into the conversation without Zuko getting all angsty. Maybe they have made progress. Sokka smiles at the thought. 

It lasts a solid minute, until he remembers that he’s supposed to hate Zuko and everything he stands for (because of sophomore year, of course).

He really hates holding grudges, Sokka decides. If only Zuko would just apologize. But that’s probably asking too much self-awareness of a guy who's had about half of a normal conversation with him in the past year-and-a-half.

After Zuko settles in, the pair fall into their usual rhythm, going over review problems for Piandao’s upcoming exam. 

They’re about halfway through the study guide when On Ji quietly walks up to their table, carrying a stack of papers in her arms. Sokka waves at her cheerfully, a gesture she immediately returns. 

“Sokka! I’m glad I found you here!” On Ji whispers with as much pep as she can without raising her voice. Sokka smiles easily.

“What’s up?” 

“I just got the finalized schedule for Friday!” She hands him one of the papers from her stack, which Sokka accepts readily. On Ji is head of the student planning committee for homecoming which has meant that Sokka, as a member of the homecoming court, has been seeing a lot of her over the past few weeks. “It’s pretty self explanatory, but you can always text me if you have any questions!” Sokka nods. “Can you get one to Suki? I don’t have any classes with her,” Sokka nods again, accepting another sheet from On Ji as she continues to happily babble on about her excitement for the upcoming Friday. After a few more minutes of back and forth, On Ji bids her goodbye cheerfully, exiting the library with a smile.

As soon as On Ji is out of earshot, Zuko looks up at Sokka, a look on his face that could only be described as conspiratory. Sokka raises a questioning eyebrow. 

“Is she still dating Hide?” The way Zuko says his name, with pure disgust, catches Sokka so off-guard that he lets out a sputtering laugh. After a moment, he’s able to somewhat compose himself.

“Unfortunately,” Sokka sighs as he responds, “On Ji can do so much better!” Zuko nods emphatically. 

“That guy is the worst,” Zuko mutters, “he outed Smellerbee in front of our whole biology class freshman year!” 

“I remember hearing about that,” Sokka muses, wracking his brain for the now-faded memories of freshman year, “Ugh, what an absolute asshole!”

“Also, he keeps trying to convince everyone that his uncle is the richest person in Guam! Which is a Google-able fact! So we all know he’s lying whenever he says it! Oh! And in our sophomore-year English class, he convinced everyone that he wrote this love song about On Ji, but I put it in Shazam and it was literally—” Zuko cuts himself off, as if he’s realized that he’s actually verbalizing all of this. He scratches the back of his head. “Uh—sorry,” If Sokka didn’t know better he’d swear that Zuko was blushing, “I got...carried away. I just hate that guy!” 

Zuko’s grumbling, Sokka decides, is really quite entertaining when it isn’t directed at him. If it were anyone else, Sokka would say it was endearing. He quickly shakes that thought away.

“No worries, man.” Sokka throws him a smile, “I’m with you, Hide is the worst.” 

They fall into a relatively-comfortable silence for a moment, Zuko returns to working on an example problem while Sokka continues flipping through the textbook to find more practice problems.

“What’s the paper for?” Zuko asks. Sokka raises an eyebrow quizzically. “The one On Ji gave you.”

“Oh!” Sokka brightens. “It’s for homecoming court! We have to like, be in the parade and stuff at certain times so On Ji made us this schedule! It’s color-coded and everything!” Sokka sighs contently. He’s sure his enthusiasm is palpable. If there’s one thing Sokka loves above all else, it’s a good schedule. 

“Cool,” Zuko looks puzzled and sounds less than impressed when he replies, but Sokka chooses to ignore it. 

“Are you going to the game?” Sokka says gamely, attempting to make conversation. Zuko scoffs.

“No, definitely not.” The other boy slouches back in his chair, crossing his arms with a disgruntled expression on his face. Sokka’s not sure why, but he feels the slightest twinge of disappointment at Zuko’s response. 

“Not a fan of football?” 

“More like, not a fan of school events. And football,” Zuko adds “I don’t like that either.” Sokka chuckles.

“Fair enough,” Sokka concedes. He pauses, a sneaky grin creeping on to his face, before adding “but you’ll be depriving yourself the great joy of seeing Suki and I look even more gorgeous than usual! Well, mostly Suki.” 

“How will I ever survive?” Zuko grumbles, with what Sokka is now able to identify as a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

As they wrap up for the day, Sokka can’t help but feel...relieved. He doesn’t want to jinx it, but it almost feels like he and Zuko bonded. And Sokka knows he should hate him, as Katara would remind him, the guy went out of his way to be an asshole to not only him, but his friends, for an entire year. But now that they’re actually talking, he can’t bring himself to. Not in the same way.

Sokka sighs. 

He wants to think Zuko has changed, but who is he kidding. Sokka has to stop getting his hopes up, he decides, for things that won’t ever happen. 

Unfortunately, Sokka’s brain doesn’t seem to get the memo, his thoughts continuously, unintentionally wandering back to Zuko, to how confusing he is, to how Sokka, for some reason, has almost started to enjoy his company (or, at the very least, not dread it).

No, he shakes off the thought, that’s not true. One good moment doesn’t erase a sea of bad ones. It was a fluke. By next week, Sokka figures, they’ll be back to the same mutual-dislike and steely conversations as before. 

___________________________________________________________

That Friday after school Zuko goes to get dinner with Mai and Ty Lee at a diner downtown. 

Well, it’s downtown as much as anything can be in their small city, where the tallest building is thirteen stories and the main landmark is the prestigious Caldera College, but Zuko digresses. 

In all honesty, he hadn’t planned on doing anything that night, outside of some light sulking and possible pondering over what homecoming might be like if he could be bothered to go. He blames Sokka for this; once the other boy mentioned it on Wednesday, the idea of homecoming had sat firmly in the back of his mind. So when Mai had texted him, inviting him to meet up, Zuko jumped on the opportunity. It was the perfect excuse to not go to said homecoming football game (not that Zuko needed one, but still), and a great chance to see his friends. 

Zuko would never admit it (and Mai certainly wouldn’t, while Ty Lee most definitely would) but not going to school with them had made him painfully aware of how much he valued their companionship. Even if he was technically third-wheeling. 

Plus, he could use a distraction from the rumination he had been engaging in ever since his semi-revelation on the drive to rehearsal. 

As Zuko pulls into the parking lot at Jeong Jeong’s, he’s unsuprised to find it rather full. Jeong Jeong’s is a town favorite, frequented by students and seniors alike for being open 24 hours a day and having one of the town’s coolest old people as its owner and namesake. 

In hindsight, he supposes that 5-o’clock on the night of homecoming will likely mean a lot of pre-football game dinners for people attending, but it’s too late for Zuko to do anything about that.

As he trudges inside, he finds Mai and Ty Lee already seated. When they spot him, Ty Lee beams, waving at him excitedly. Mai offers a half-smile. (The latter is far more surprising to Zuko).

“Zuko!” Ty Lee jumps up from her seat and bounds over to him, quickly hugging him. “ It’s so good to see you! It’s been such a long time!”

“Uh, hi Ty Lee, It’s good to see you too,” Zuko replies awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with himself as Ty Lee finally releases her arms and hops back over to her seat. Zuko slides into the booth across from her and Mai, who offers him a nod. She’s already sipping a cup of black coffee, once again reminding Zuko how impressive her caffeine tolerance is. If he drank coffee this late he wouldn’t sleep for a week.

The trio exchanges some light batter while they flip through their menus. Not that they need them, Zuko thinks. They’ve all gotten the same thing here since the first time they came, almost three years ago. 

As Ty Lee animatedly tells a story about one of her classes, Zuko basks in the comfort of their company. He relishes in the fact that neither Ty Lee nor Mai will comment on his lack of engagement. (Mai herself is a woman of few words, and Ty Lee talks enough for the three of them. It works).

It’s not until they place their orders, the clearly-exhausted waitress scribbling them down on her notepad and heading back to the kitchen, that Zuko figures he should address the sister-sized elephant in the restaurant. He waits for a natural lull in the conversation before speaking. 

“Um,” Zuko clears his throat, “how’s Azula?”

They stare back at him silently, then at each other, exchanging a look that Zuko can’t discern. Ty Lee finally looks back at him, a bit sadly.

“She’s...still Azula,” Ty Lee frowns slightly, “but she’s seemed kinda off ever since...you know,” she gestures to him, then to herself and Mai. Zuko does know. He won’t make Ty Lee explain herself.

“Yeah,” Zuko sighs. There’s not much left to say. What can he say, really? That he’s worried about her? That he hopes she’s doing okay? That he wishes their dad—

No, he decides. None of those will do. “I was just wondering,” Mai and Ty Lee give him sad looks, though Ty Lee’s is far more obvious.

“Zuko,” Mai says, a no-nonsense tone in her voice, “you’re allowed to care about her. She’s your sister, even if she is...” Mai doesn’t finish the sentence, but Zuko gets the jist of it.

He knows Mai is right. But it doesn’t feel as simple as that. Mostly, he feels pathetic for having to hear about how his sister is doing through sporadic updates from their mutual friends. Not that Azula would tell him anything if he tried talking to her, Zuko thinks bitterly. Not anything true, anyways. He’s sure she’d find some way to get him twisted up in something elaborate that would inevitably result in him further angering his father.  
And yet, he still feels guilty. At least, he thinks it’s guilt. Zuko isn’t quite sure what for, but it’s enough to compel him to check up on her however he can.

Surprisingly, Mai is the one to segue the conversation, which had fallen into a semi-awkward silence.

“So,” she says, causing Zuko to look up at her, “how’s Sokka?” Zuko instantly glares at her.

“Why do you say it like that!” Mai raises an eyebrow at him. Ty Lee’s sad expression instantly brightens.

“Oooooh who’s Sokka!” She asks enthusiastically. Zuko groans.

“He’s my math tutor,” he glares at Mai, who sips her coffee, while he replies. Ty Lee looks like she’s about to combust with excitement.

“Tell me everything! What’s he like? Is he cute?” Ty Lee babbles on. Zuko hopes Mai feels his deep, deep annoyance being directed her way.

“There isn’t anything to tell, he just tutors me, in math” he says curtly. “Besides,” Zuko mutters, “he definitely hates me.” 

And then, because Mai hasn’t done enough to betray him apparently, she decides to speak up again.

“If he hated you, he wouldn’t bother to ask if you were going to homecoming.” 

“He was just trying to be nice!” Zuko regrets all of his life decisions.

“When’s homecoming?” Ty Lee asks, clearly bouncing with energy, “You totally have to go!”

Zuko scratches his neck, averting his eyes. “Uhm, tonight?” 

The look on Ty Lee’s face, upon hearing this, is akin to one of someone who just found out their dog died.

“Zuko!!” Ty Lee says dramatically, lightly clapping her hands together, “You can’t skip homecoming! It’s tradition! And it’s your senior year!” She bobs her head up and down with excitement. “We can all go together!”

Zuko audibly groans. He should’ve never told Ty Lee. Mai just sits back in the booth, offering him an amused half-smirk as she drinks the last of her coffee.

And that’s how Zuko ends up with Mai and Ty Lee piled into his car, driving to school field for the Agni-damned homecoming football game. He takes back every good thing he’s ever thought or said about them, Zuko decides, Mai and Ty Lee are no longer his friends. 

Who is he kidding, they’re his only friends. Zuko reminds himself as much when rueing their existence while the trio stands in line outside the stadium gates, waiting to buy tickets. Well, them and Toph, he thinks. 

As if he thought her into existence, Zuko feels a gentle nudging on the side of his leg. Turning, he sees Appa, tugging a mildly-disheveled Toph along with him.

“Appa! C’mon dude, work with me!” Zuko can’t help but chuckle.

“Hi Appa,” 

“No hi for me, Sparky?” Zuko rolls his eyes.

“Hi Toph,” he makes sure the sarcasm in his voice is evident. She punches him on the arm.

“What’re you doing here? I thought you hated these things.” Zuko scoffs.

“I thought you hated them,” Toph scowls.

“Yeah, yeah pot, kettle, whatever. Doesn’t answer my question.”

“Mai and Ty Lee made me come, since it’s senior year or whatever,” Zuko grumbles. Toph guffaws.

“Ha! That’s amazing! Can’t wait ‘till Snoozles hears this!” Before Zuko can ask what that is supposed to mean, a moderately-disgruntled Katara begins making her way towards them.

“Toph! There you are! We’re all ready to go in!” She doesn’t even acknowledge Zuko, which is cold, but well-deserved and expected, he figures.

“Sugar Queen calls!” Toph says drly, walking away towards Katara, who shoots a withering glare back at Zuko before disappearing into the crowd. 

Zuko groans. Mai and Ty Lee both look at him expectantly, but he says nothing. In fact, he stays rather sulky throughout the entire first half of the game. Mostly because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he’d rather be almost anywhere else. He doesn’t really start paying attention until halftime, when the marching band comes out. 

His eyes scan the field for the clarinet section, before he finally spots Aang. Ty Lee perks up beside him.

“Is that Sokka?” she asks in a hushed voice. Zuko shakes his head. Much to his surprise, the marching band is pretty good. He makes a mental note to tell Aang as much the next time he sees him. 

He doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, because it’s only a moment later that On Ji is ushered to the middle of the field with a microphone, letting everyone know that she’s going to introduce the homecoming court.

The first few pairs that walk out are names that Zuko vaguely recognizes, but doesn’t know personally. Ty Lee seems to be having a great time, at least, happily vibing along to the entrance songs each duo has chosen. Even Mai seems less unimpressed than usual (although Zuko suspects that might have less to do with the actual event and more to do with Ty Lee having a good time, but that’s neither here nor there). 

In all honesty, Zuko has half forgotten that Sokka is on the homecoming court until he hears On Ji announce his name, along with Suki’s. 

If you were to ask him about it, Zuko would adamantly deny the way he visibly snapped back to attention when he heard Sokka’s name. He hears Ty Lee gasp next to him. “Zuko!” she whisper-yells to him, “you didn’t tell me he was so cute! They both look amazing!”

It’s at that moment that Zuko looks at Sokka, really looks at him. And then, he can’t stop. 

He thinks back to what Sokka said in the library, but immediately decides that gorgeous is an understatement for how he looks. Zuko’s brain promptly short-circuits. A cold, burning sensation creeps up his neck and he looks away, not sure if he’s embarrassed or ashamed or something else entirely. Zuko can feel Mai and Ty Lee looking at him, but he can’t do anything except panic.  
Because he knew Sokka was attractive. But seeing him here, and actually looking at him, it hits Zuko. Under the harsh stadium lights Sokka, in his deep blue suit, with his hair down, flashing a brilliant smile, is practically ethereal. 

He closes his eyes physically, but he can’t stop seeing it.

Shit, Zuko thinks. He’s so screwed.

___________________________________________________________

That Friday, to put it lightly, is absolute chaos. If it weren’t for On Ji’s beautiful color-coded schedule, Sokka is sure he would’ve imploded by now. Okay, maybe he has imploded a little bit, but that’s not the point. 

The day starts off fine, but early, with morning practice. Sokka debates skipping it to get some precious, much-needed sleep, but ultimately opts against it. Besides, he figures, exercise might help ease his nerves (It does, but only a little bit).

In terms of education, he’s practically useless for the first three periods, distractedly following along in all of his classes. Sokka knows he should try to focus but he can’t. The anticipation of the day is all-encompassing. 

By the time it’s finally lunch, Sokka is practically buzzing. Luckily, by the time he gets to the group’s usual table, Toph is already seated.

“Toph!” He exclaims, “please distract me! I need something to think about that’s not homecoming!” Toph picks up her sandwich, contemplating for a moment.

“Okay, how’s tutoring?” Sokka groans.

“Anything but that, please!” Toph chuckles.

“Is it really that bad?”

“It’s not bad, it’s just,” Sokka ponders, “confusing, and moderately annoying. Plus, I’m pretty sure Zuko hates fun. I bet he was the kid at birthday parties that popped all the balloons to annoy the other kids!” Toph snorts.

“Didn’t you used to do that?” Sokka scowls.  
“No,” he says, “I popped the balloons to make a loud noise! It’s totally different!” Toph nods in mock sympathy.

“I’m sure it is,” Toph’s voice is dry, “what’d he do that was so ‘fun-hating’ anyways?”

“He’s not going to homecoming!” Sokka exclaims. 

“And that means he hates fun? Maybe he just doesn’t like football.” Toph clearly isn’t buying it.

“You don’t get it, Toph! It was the way he talked about it, said he didn’t like any school events! Also, whenever I try to talk about anything that isn’t math, he yells at me to get on topic!” Sokka’s voice is animated. Toph has a conspiratory look on her face, as if she’s just realized something. “What?”

“Are you sure that’s your problem with him not going to homecoming?” Toph’s attempt to feign innocence is entirely unsuccessful. And, while Sokka knows she’s implying something, he can’t figure out what.

“Whaddya mean?” Toph raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’m just saying, for someone you claim to hate, you talk about him an awful lot.” Somehow she’s managed to confuse Sokka even more, his perplexion clearly showing on his face.

“Look,” she starts, “maybe the reason you’re pressed about him not going to homecoming is—”

“Who isn’t going to homecoming?” Aang asks, walking up to the table with Katara at his side.

“No one,” Sokka says decisively. He doesn’t have the mental energy to unpack whatever Toph is talking about. That can be a problem for future Sokka. “Aang, are you excited for the band performance?” And with that, Sokka successfully shifts the conversation, as Aang dives into an enthusiastic description of what songs they’re going to be playing. 

He isn’t expecting Suki at lunch: she’d told him previously that she was taking the morning off to get ready and relax. This doesn’t, however, stop him from checking in with her.

(September 14th, 12:23 P.M)

Sokka: i regret not joining in on the spa day. had a pop quiz in ap lang :((( how goes it?

Her reply is almost instant.

(September 14th, 12:24P.M)

Suki: booooo no quizzes on hoco :(

Suki: spa day was good! picking up the flowers now. see you soon!

Luckily, members of homecoming court get excused after lunch, so it’s hardly any time at all before Sokka is bounding to his locker, haphazardly throwing his things into his backpack, and heading out to the parking lot to meet Suki.

He can hardly contain his excitement as he throws himself into the passenger seat of Suki’s car, leaning across the console to hug her. Suki is clearly excited too, chatting with Sokka about the events of her morning, showing him her freshly painted nails and their matching corsage and boutonniere.

Sokka leads back in his seat, basking in the sunshine. It’s the best kind of fall day: when the air is crisp and slightly chilly but there isn’t a cloud in the sky, letting the sun seep through and warm the Earth. He smiles. It feels exhilarating. 

It’s only a few minutes before they arrive at Suki’s house, instantly clamouring down to the basement to get ready. Time passes in a flurry: Sokka helps Suki style her hair, Suki helps him style his, Sokka scrambles to find their sashes while Suki searches her dresser for a necklace, and then they’re taking pictures on her front porch before piling back into Suki’s car.

The parade itself passes in a flurry and, before Sokka knows it, he’s standing on the football field, practically blinded by the stadium lights. Suki is next to him, thank Tui, her arm linked with his as they wait with the rest of the homecoming court.

“Haru!” Sokka exclaims, as the other boy walks up to him and Suki, “I can’t believe you actually grew a mustache for this!” Haru laughs.

“I had to match my self-portrait!” Now they’re all laughing, the general camaraderie making Sokka’s heart feel exceptionally full. 

And then, somehow, it’s time for them to go out. He doesn’t quite process the actual event of walking out onto the field. Just that people are cheering and music is blaring and he’s focusing on not tripping and Suki is saying something to him but he can’t hear her and it’s absolute chaos but it’s also amazing. 

After the game, Sokka and Suki trail to the edge of the field, waiting to meet the rest of their friends.

It’s not too long before Katara, Aang, Toph and Appa come bounding up to them. Aang instantly throws his arms around Sokka.

“Sokka! You did so amazing!” Aang gushes before releasing Sokka, who smiles back at him. He doesn’t even get a moment to breathe before Katara is wrapping him in a hug as well. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. 

Once Katara and Aang switch their focus over to Suki, Toph walks over to stand next to him, Appa padding along with her

“Not bad, Captain Boomerang” Toph punches him on the arm. Sokka resists the urge to flinch. Toph’s punches are stronger than you’d think.

“Thanks, Toph!” He rubs the spot on his arm where her punch landed. 

It’s then that Sokka’s mind wanders back to their earlier conversation, which means that his thoughts somehow find their way back to Zuko. 

He wonders what Zuko would’ve thought about the whole ordeal. Probably that it was foolish and a waste of time, or something like that. Yeah, Sokka thinks, he can practically hear that sentence in Zuko’s voice.

Wait. Why is he thinking about Zuko right now? Sokka shakes the thought away. It’s probably just him and Toph’s conversation from earlier weaving its way back into his mind. It doesn’t mean anything. 

At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Oh! Guess who decided to come to the game after all!” Toph exclaims, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Who?” Sokka says gamely. 

“Sparky—er, Zuko!” Sokka’s blinks. 

“Huh,” he says, not quite sure what to say, “nice.” Toph gives him an incredulous look, but doesn’t say anything. 

She doesn’t have a chance to, because Katara is whisking them all away to the parking lot, from where they’ll inevitably go to get post-game milkshakes and Sokka won’t have to think about Toph’s weird behavior or Zuko or anything other than how amazing his friends are. 

And that’s exactly what he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!!! 
> 
> sorry this chapter is so long!!! i got carried away with it
> 
> this week has been absolutely crazy, but i'm relieved at how things turned out
> 
> hope you all are doing well and staying safe!!
> 
> -vallie <3
> 
> p.s. : come visit me on tumblr @ enzuras , i made a new one!!


	4. september - part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies and baby swings...or something like that

Still riding the high from homecoming, Sokka found himself actually looking forward to the next week's tutoring session in the days leading up to it. He couldn’t help it; the world seemed a bit brighter, still rich with the afterglow of successful social interaction and acceptance from his peers. Besides, the fact that Zuko actually did come to the event meant that Sokka had a built-in conversation topic now that he knew the other boy could actually….well,  _ conversate _ . 

Unfortunately for him, this slight optimism was crushed by one Toph Beifong during lunch on Tuesday. 

“Oh! Snoozles, I’m supposed to tell you that Zuko isn’t coming to tutoring tomorrow,” she says absentmindedly. Sokka feels it like a jolt to his system.

“What do you mean he’s ‘not coming to tutoring tomorrow’?” Sokka exclaims, making air quotes gestures with his hands.

“I mean that instead of you and Sparky sitting and bitching at each other about math for an hour, you get to come here and eat with us tomorrow.” Sokka gives an exasperated scowl and slouches back in the hard plastic chair, crossing his arms in huff. The rest of the group shoots him confused looks.

“Sokka, isn’t this good news?” Suki asks, sipping at a juice box.

“Yeah,” Aang chimes in, a look of perplexion on his face, “I thought you didn’t like tutoring...or Zuko.” Sokka sighs, ignoring their questions and instead continuing to pester Toph, poking her in the shoulder.

“But why’d he have  _ you _ tell me? Why didn’t he tell me himself? And why isn’t he coming?!” 

Toph squints at him, as if she’s trying to decide whether or not he’s being serious. She pops a bit of her komodo chicken into her mouth.

“How was he supposed to do that? Hire a messenger hawk? Last I heard you guys don’t exactly keep in touch.” 

“He could, I don’t know,  _ come up and talk to me _ ! We have like three classes together!” Toph snorts.

“You’re hilarious. And annoying. Why does it even matter how you found out? You got the news.”

“ _ Toph,”  _ Sokka whines. 

“I rest my case.” The table, Sokka excluded, falls into laughter and with that, the topic is effectively dropped. While Aang and Katara regale some story from their Environmental Science course, Sokka angressively eats his salad. He’s not mad, he’s really not. He just doesn’t like abrupt changes to his schedule. Especially when he doesn’t know what’s causing them.

It doesn’t help that Toph keeps smirking at him, as if she knows something he doesn’t about Zuko or tutoring or whatever. Probably something to do with her cryptic attitude last week, Sokka figures. He’s too grumbly at the moment to be bothered figuring it out.

As they’re exiting the lunch room, depositing their trash in the designated bin as Aang and Katara emphatically discuss the school’s horrible recycling program, Sokka remembers something. 

“Hey Toph,” he says, once the others have all teetered off to their lockers.

“Mhmm?”

“How do you know Zuko anyways?” Toph grins.

“Rich people events that our parents dragged us too, galas and fundraisers, you know the deal,” she waves a hand at him flippantly “I’m pretty sure our parents were trying to set us up for a while, as a business deal or something,”

“ _ What _ !” Sokka sputters. Toph cackles, punching him squarely on the arm. “Ow—”

“Re-lax, I’m just messing with you, you know I’d never agree to anything like that,” she pauses. Sokka sighs, because he does know (and he doesn’t currently have the brain capacity to process the fact that either of their parents would’ve actually done that). And while it doesn’t completely quell the storm of questions in his brain, it’s likely the most he’s going to get out of Toph. 

“I feel like there’s a story here that I’m missing,” 

“Ask Sparky about it! He tells the story better than I do!” Sokka scoffs. He heavily doubts that. But Toph is already heading down the hallway towards her next class, Appa in tow, so Sokka doesn’t have a chance to respond.

Sokka thinks on that for the rest of the day and attempting to focus in his classes takes more effort than usual. Not that Sokka has trouble paying attention, per say. He’s (almost) always an active participant in class and tries his best to take organized, methodical notes. It’s how he keeps his grades up, and his head clear. But occasionally (okay, maybe a bit more than he’d care to admit), he’ll get stuck on something, really mentally glued to it, and it’ll be impossible to think about anything else. 

It’s fifth period when Sokka, still ruminating on why in the world Toph thinks Zuko would tell him any story, gets inconviently hit with a mental image of Zuko gestiuculating emphatically with his hands as he ranted about Hide, a slight indignation creased into his face. It was kind of adorable. That version of Zuko, Sokka figures, could probably tell a good story.

Wait— _ ‘Adorable?’ _

Sokka catches himself off guard so abruptly that he chokes on his own spit and begins hacking. After he’s taken a couple sips of water from his bottle, a few deep breaths, and offered Ms. Kyoshi and apologetic smile, he allows himself to fall back into the thought spiral.

What in the world possessed his subconscious to think Zuko—the same Zuko who’s perpetually grumpy, who gave him and Aang a miserable time way back when, who—yeah, no way brain, Sokka thinks. Definitely a fluke, of some kind.

Yeah, a fluke. He’s just trying to see the good in Zuko. Sokka breathes an audible sigh of relief. That makes so much more sense.

Speaking of seeing Zuko, a quick scan of the room reveals he is, in fact, present. Sokka half-considers going up to him and getting an explanation, but decides against it almost immediately. It’s not worth the scene it would inevitably cause. Plus, he’s not sure if Zuko would be comfortable with people knowing he’s getting tutored. And he’s definitely thinking a bit too much about this. Maybe more than a bit.

Thankfully, soccer practice is able to take his mind off of pretty much anything, Zuko and Toph’s surprising friendship and his own weird feelings included. There’s nothing quite like exhausting every muscle in your body, Sokka thinks.

By the time he emerges from the locker room at the end of practice, no longer sweaty and with the pleasant ache of a good workout in his bones, Sokka has effectively forgotten about the whole debacle.

This is enough to put a pep in his step as he jogs over to the main school building to meet Katara and Aang, whose Model UN meeting should be finishing up. The sun is beginning to set in the horizon, leaving the fall air slightly crisp as it bounces off Sokka. 

When he arrives at the school building he doesn’t have to wait long, since Aang and Katara practically bound out of the doors before he can even open them.

“Sokka!” Aang calls as he careens over to him, leaving Katara’s side. “You’re already here!” 

Sokka is caught off guard. “Uh—yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Aang shakes his head. “No reason! I’m just glad we don’t have to wait around, since—”

“Ugh!” Katara exclaims angrily, as she meets up with them. “I’m so ready for this day to be over!” Sokka frowns. His baby sister isn’t necessarily difficult to rile up, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying for her. But he doesn’t press her for more information, at least not there.

Once they’ve all situated themselves in his car, Aang and Katara sliding into the back seat, Sokka scrolls through his Spotify to find his sister’s playlist. He figures if she’s having a bad day, the least he can do is play her (sometimes questionable) music.

It’s only a few minutes before Katara starts venting, recounting the numerous annoyances of her day. Sokka makes sure to follow along, nodding at all the right points and offering sympathetic looks, but he doesn’t know the sophomore class happenings very well. And he definitely doesn’t know them as well as Aang.

“Oh! And to top it off, Zuko was totally slacking off at our meeting today, so now we’re super behind!” 

Sokka’s face contorts. “Zuko does Model UN?” They both nod.

“He’s  _ supposed _ to be club president,” Katara scoffs. “I can’t believe him. First the tutoring thing, now this! Not to mention, he still hasn’t apologized for all the shit he gave you guys when he first came here!”

“Actually,” Aang chimes in quietly, “Zuko did apologize to me.” 

It’s a good thing they’re at a stop light, because Sokka whips his head around so fast there’s no way he could’ve focused on the road, making himself dizzy from the quick movement.

The siblings stare at Aang in uniform incredulity. 

“What? When?” Katara exclaims. Sokka is too stunned to say anything. He’s snapped out of it by a particularly aggressive horn-honking coming from behind him. Looking up, he realizes the light is green.

“Last year!” Aang is unfazed by their reactions, likely because he was expecting them. Sokka doesn’t know what to do with this information. Katara clearly doesn’t either. However, she’s much better at vocalizing her confusion than Sokka is at the present moment. 

“What did he say?! And why didn’t you tell me?” The second question is much softer than the first. If Sokka notices, he’s sure Aang does too. 

Aang puts a comforting hand on her shoulder “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to forgive him on my behalf.” He pauses, contemplative. “Besides, it wasn’t a big, grand thing, he pretty much just said he was sorry and I told him that I forgave him.” Aang shrugs as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

For Aang it probably is, Sokka figures. The kid has a heard of gold, coupled with a strong sense of spirituality and set of morals. Forgiving is something he does readily.

And, to his credit, Aang is probably right. If Katara had heard this information back when it happened, she probably would’ve had some weird thing about it. Because, unlike Aang, his sister is very good at holding grudges. (Sokka isn’t too bad at it himself).

Katara seems to accept Aang’s reasoning, at least for the moment, but the car ride is relatively devoid of chatter for the remaining few minutes, only the electric melodies of Katara’s favorite Glass Animals song filling up the car.

Sokka isn’t quite sure what to do with this information. Even more so, he’s not sure what to do with  _ Zuko _ . (He secretly wonders why Zuko never cared to apologize to him.)

* * *

To say Zuko was freaking out would be putting it lightly. 

As soon as the homecoming football game had finished, he had bolted out of the stadium with the speed of an angry mongoose lizard, frantically trying to get to his car before anyone could notice he was even there. 

  
Well, anyone besides Toph and Katara, who had already seen him. And—

Zuko slaps his forehead. He left Mai and Ty Lee in the stands. It’s too late to go back now: the crowd is too large and he’s already reached his car anywars, but he can already imagine the absolute death glare Mai is going to give him, and it’ll be totally fair. 

“Shit.” He mutters.

Unlocking his car, Zuko practically catapults himself into the driver’s seat, eager to be away from the outside where he could be potentially spotted by classmates. Once he’s got all his limbs situated, double-check to ensure he shut the door, Zuko breathes.

Everything around him is hazy, the sunset in his blurred periphery painting the sky a dull purple-orange. He counts. And breathes again.

The passenger door to his car is then thrown open, breaking whatever semblance of relaxation Zuko had managed to find.

“For Agni’s sake, Zuko!” Mai gives him the expect death glare, but suprisingly it doesn’t last long one she sees his state of general discombobulation. “What happened?” Her voice is softer now.

“Uh—good question,” Zuko says awkwardly. He’s not too sure on the details himself. Just that Sokka’s existence caused him brain to go into panic mode. Or something like that.

“Zuko!” Ty Lee’s concerned voice seeps into the car as she enters the backseat. “Are you alright?” 

He attempts to keep his voice level, “I am now.” Zuko doesn’t even have to look to know that neither of the girls believe him. Switching his car into reverse, he starts finegling his way out of the parallel parking spot he had barely managed to get into in the first place.

They’ve made it halfway across town before anyone speaks again. Naturally, it’s Ty Lee who break the silence.

  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Her voice is so sincere and unusually quiet that he almost says yes. But he doesn’t.

Instead Zuko just shakes his head; a quick, curt no. He can see Mai staring him in his periphery; there’s no way she won’t ask him about this later. But for now, he wants to sit and stew with his own thoughts. Or he just doesn’t know how to tell them that he’s having a potential second gay crisis over a boy who both hates him and is tutoring him in math. Yikes.

It’s late when Zuko arrives back at the Jasmine Dragon, quietly padding up the stairs that lead to their apartment, so as to not wake his uncle. Unfortunately, his efforts are in vain, since it turns out he left his key somewhere and has to call his uncle to get let in. 

When Iroh opens the door, he’s smiling affectionately, ushering Zuko in. It doesn’t take long for him to notice the look on Zuko’s face. It’s one he’s become familiar with over the past three years: angst.

It’s a wordless affair; his uncle brews a pot of jasmine tea, allowing Zuko his space to sit at the counter and sulk. The faint sound of Iroh’s humming mixed with the whistling of the tea kettle makes the space feel warm in a way Zuko still isn’t used to a home being. He lets himself relax into it, for the moment.

His uncle passes him a green china cup, still steaming, what feels like seconds later. He takes the seat next to Zuko and sips his cup patiently. He knows that if Zuko wants to talk, he will.

And he does.

“Uncle,” Zuko’s voice is a bit horse. “How do you apologize to someone when it’s too late? Or, when it’s been too long since the thing happened.”

His uncle is quiet for a moment before speaking.

“Apologies are sometimes a fickle thing,” he starts. “But no matter how much time has passed, the principle remains the same. You accept responsibility, and truly try your best to not do the same thing again. Otherwise it will have been in vain.” Zuko nods. He’s too tired to carry on much more of a conversation.

“Thank you, uncle,” Zuko clears his cup, stacking it in the sink. “Goodnight.” He starts to walk away.

“Zuko?” His uncle calls out to him as he’s about to exit the kitchen. He turns around. “I have found that most people are willing to try forgivness, if you let them.”

It takes all of twenty minutes for this to send Zuko spiraling. 

  
He knows what he has to do—or what he  _ should  _ do. But the thought of confronting it is relatively terrifying. Not to mention whatever inconvenient feelings decided to spring up in him during the homecoming football game. Zuko absolutely does not have time for this. Especially with college applications to work on. 

His brain, however, does not get the memo, leaving him distracted for the greater part of a week. The guilt gnaws at him, threatening to spill over when he asks Toph to let Sokka know he can’t make it to tutoring. It’s not until the next Friday, exactly one week after the now-regrettably-monumental game that Mai calls him. They’d exchanged brief texts over the past week, but Zuko knows she hasn’t been buying it.

“What in Agni’s name are you doing?” Mai doesn’t even bother with platitudes. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” 

“Panicking for no reason.”

“It’s not for no reason!” Zuko’s voice is indignant.

“Well what’s the reason then?” He doesn’t know what to say, or how to articulate it. Mai doesn’t say anything else, clearly waiting for him to reply, so the line goes dead for a couple minutes.

“I feel bad, okay. I couldn’t even go to tutoring this week.”

“About sophomore year or about the homecoming game?” He frowns slightly.

“Both, I guess, mostly sophomore year.” 

  
  
“Have you tried, I don’t know, apologizing to him?” Zuko glares at her through the phone.

“Not yet! I’m trying to figure out how to.” He can feel Mai rolling her eyes.

“Stop brooding about it and just, apologize. It doesn’t have to be elaborate to be sincere.” Zuko sighs. Mai is right (she usually is). He tells her as much. 

Talking to Mai confirmed what his uncle had already said: he needs to apologize to Sokka.

He just hopes he can follow through with it.

With each day that passes, growing closer and closer to Wednesday, Zuko finds himself getting more and more nervous. He tries to snap himself out of it, to no avail. He supposes he should be nervous: Sokka would be within his right to totally disregard him. Or yell at him. (Zuko hopes he doesn’t yell).

Now all he can think about as he makes his way to the library is Sokka yelling at him. Zuko’s heart is pounding so loudly in his chest that he can feel it in his eardrums. 

Everything is happening in slow motion, like he’s a passenger in his own body and someone is aggressively fiddling with the settings. 

Sokka isn’t at the table yet when Zuko gets there. He can’t decide if this is a good or a bad thing, but sits down nonetheless. 

He hangs his head, dropping it into his hands theatrically. And he waits. But he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Zuko?” He shoots up abruptly. Sokka is standing near the table, giving him a look that’s a mix of concern and annoyance.

“Yes—uh, hi.” Zuko mentally curses himself. He needs to get it together.

“Are you alright? What happened last week?” Zuko takes a deep breath. Might as well get it over with.

“No—I mean, I’m fine, but there’s something—I owe you an apology,” Sokka’s eyebrows pinch together.

“For missing tutoring? It’s not a big deal,”

“No,” Zuko shakes his head, “for sophomore year, and I guess for missing tutoring but that isn’t the point.”   
  


“Oh,” Sokka says, “okay, let’s hear it,” 

Whatever Zuko expected his reaction to be this is...not it. At least he isn’t getting yelled at yet.

“I, there’s no excuse for my actions, but I—I didn’t know how to handle everything that was happening and I shouldn’t have been so…you know,” Zuko trails off, “anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry,” 

The other boy’s face is surprisingly stoic. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking pensively down at his feet. 

What feels like a lifetime later, but is only a couple of minutes, he sighs. “Apology accepted,” 

“Really? Just like that?” Sokka nods.

“Water under the bridge,” He moves to sit down, “I don’t like having issues with people, I mean I never really had an issue with you but I’m glad you don’t have one with me anymore,”

Zuko doesn’t know how to explain that it was never Sokka he had an issue with. Just his life. So he doesn’t. He settles for nodding, still slightly shellshocked. 

“Why’d you apologize to Aang before me?” Sokka’s question catches him off guard. Zuko shrugs. There are a million things he could say. He could tell Sokka how he didn’t realize that he wanted to apologize until a couple weeks ago, tell him about how Sokka had been his competition for so long that he hadn’t even considered being anything other than rivals with him. But that’s all way too much for a newly mended relationship.

“He’s more approachable.” 

“I’m super approachable!” Sokka looks offended, but it doesn’t seem too serious. Zuko considers this.

“Maybe,” he raises an eyebrow, “but it’s different.”

Sokka seems to accept that as enough of an answer. They both move to unpack their things, Zuko still struggling to process the fact that Sokka actually...accepted his apology. That he didn’t get yelled at or—

“So,” Sokka’s voice interrupts his thoughts, expression neutral. “Since we’re friends now I guess I can ask how you ended up at the football game last weekend? Or why you missed tutoring last week?” 

Zuko groans. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

* * *

A Saturday without a soccer game is a rare occurrence. At least, it will be for the next couple of weeks, Sokka reminds himself, until the season is over for the fourth and final time. He’s not quite sure what he’ll do with all that time. 

But now isn’t the time to get melancholic about it, Sokka decides. He’s going to make the most of his rare, elusive free time. Which starts with homework. 

It might seem counterintuitive, but in order to actually relax, Sokka has to get all of his shit done. Not to mention, he has an essay due for AP Lang about a book he hasn’t exactly read. And the ever-dreaded college applications to work on. Gross.

Since it’s a semi-special occasion and Sokka isn’t a total glutton for punishment, he decides that treating himself to coffee is in order. He can practically hear Suki’s voice in his head as he drives to their local cafe.

(“Sokka,” she’d say, “it doesn’t count as ‘treating yourself’ if you do it every other day.”

“Suki,” he’d reply, “self-care has no limits and I’m addicted to caffeine, so it does count.”)

He’s all parked and ready to enter the coffee shop before he realizes that there isn’t a single other car in the lot. Sokka frowns. Weird. Maybe they’re closed for renovations?

Sure enough, when Sokka makes his way over to the door of the building, the closed sign stares back at him from behind the glass. According to the notice that’s taped up, there was a ‘minor plumbing incident’ and yep—Sokka definitely doesn’t want to know what  _ that _ means.

One thing it means for sure is that he’s out of a study spot. Thank Tui for his good mood. He absentmindely wonders if the fact that him and Zuko made ammends has anything to do with it. Who is he kidding, of course it does. Sokka hates having unresolved issues with people and now he doesn’t, which is perfectly conducive to a positive outlook. 

Google Maps comes to his rescue. Apparently there’s a tea shop called the Jasmie Dragon a couple block away, which works for Sokka. The name sounds sort of familiar (he swears he’s heard Toph mention it before) but he’s never been. Well, Sokka thinks, what good is free time if he can’t use it to try new things. He just hopes they have something coffee-like.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected a _tea_ _shop_ to have coffee but it ends up working out fine. The old man working behind the counter (who tells Sokka to call him Uncle and also that he is the owner) is helpful in explaining the menu to him once it becomes clear that Sokka knows absolutely nothing about tea. Plus there are plenty of open tables and the backgroun music is just the right volume for studying. Combined with caffeine, it’s everything he needs for a productive work day.

He settles into a table in one of the corners, laying out his study materials methodically. Checking his phone on last time, he shoots out a quick message to Toph.

_ (September 22nd, 9:53 A.M.) _

**Sokka:** currently at that tea shop you tell us about… 

**Sokka:** does the owner tell everyone to call him uncle?

Sokka turns his phone on silent before sliding it into his backpack. Toph isn’t likely to reply anytime soon; it’s a Saturday and there’s no way she’ll be up before noon. 

Time passes quickly and it’s not long before the sun is directly overhead, blazing through the windows as Sokka drinks his last sip of now-lukewarm, suprisingly good tea. The owner notices, making his way out from behind the counter and over to Sokka.

“How did you like it?” Sokka grins back at him.

“Best tea I’ve ever had! Although I am usually a coffee person so I don’t know if that’s saying much.” The owner matches his smile.

“We’ll make a tea person of you yet! I’ll have my nephew bring you another cup,” Sokka nods, not thinking much of it, offering him a quick thank you before turning back to his notes. He’s almost done with his AP Lang essay, thank Tui. 

It’s not until he notices a cup being place on the corner of the table, so quickly he almost doesn’t see it, that he looks up.

“Thank y—” his eyes widen, then squint, “Zuko?” 

Sure enough, it is Zuko, in the flesh. He looks far less angsty than usual, though Sokka supposes that’s probably due to the fact that he’s decked out in a green apron and soft-looking sweater. 

“I didn’t know you came here,” Zuko says, not meeting his eyes. His voice is just as scruffy as ever.

  
Sokka laughs. “Hi to you too. And I don’t usually, Toph told me about it and my usual place was closed, so.” Zuko looks like he still isn’t quite sure what to do with the situation. Sokka doesn’t blame him.

“Uh—cool?” Zuko scratches the back of his neck. “Let know if the uh—tea is good, yeah,” Sokka gives him a double thumbs up. He’s pretty sure Zuko all but bolts away from him which stings a little bit.

  
What is he talking about? Of course Zuko is going to feel awkward about him being here. They only stopped actively disliking each other like four days ago. Checking his phone, he sees that Toph has texted him back.

_ (September 22nd, 12:03 P.M.) _

**Toph:** PLEASE TELL ME YOU AREN’T JOKING 

**Toph:** THIS IS TOO GOOD

**Toph:** Also you better bring me with next time if you value your kneecaps.

**Toph:** And yes, he does. At least with the customers he likes. 

Sokka snorts. Classic Toph.

_ (September 22nd, 12:15 P.M.) _

**Sokka:** YOU COULD’VE TOLD ME THAT ZUKO WORKS HERE YOU NERD

**Sokka:** i think i’m making him uncomfy *sad face*

Her reply is nearly instant.

_ (September 22nd, 12:16 P.M.) _

**Toph:** You’re a nerd.

**Toph:** And I would have told you, if you had told me you were going.

**Toph:** I would’ve paid good money to see Sparky’s face when he saw you.

Sokka doesn’t reply, mostly because he isn’t sure what she means by that. He’s starting to feel bad: Zuko has been actively avoiding coming over to his table, so Sokka’s theory about making him uncomfortable is starting to look more and more likely.    
  


They’re supposed to be friends now, or at least acquaintences. Sokka has to find a way to remedy the situations.

By the time the sun sets, Sokka has almost finished up his work and come up with a plan. He just hopes Zuko says yes. Glancing around him, he sees that the store is pretty much empty. Perfect.

Packing up his backpack, he brings his dishes over to the counter, sliding onto one of the barstools. Zuko looks up at him, but only briefly. 

“So,” Sokka breaks the silence, “here’s what I’m thinking,” 

Zuko doesn’t reply, or really give any verbal indication that he’s listening. But Sokka sees his shoulders straighten up, so he decides to keep going.

“We have to hang out if we’re actually going to be friends, otherwise it’ll be awkward like this forever,” It’s this statement that causes Zuko to look up at him, directly at him, for the first time all day.

“You—Why do you want to hang out with me?” The look of genuine confusion on his face takes Sokka aback.

“Uh—I thought we established that on Wednesday? Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with you?”

  
“Oh,” Zuko’s voice is soft and unsure. 

“When do you get off work?” A mischevious smile makes its way onto Sokka’s face. Zuko furrows his brow.

“Technically we close in fifteen minutes, but I still have to clean everything and close up, it might take awhile,” Sokka waves him off.

  
“I can wait,” Zuko still looks confused, but he doesn’t protest. 

Sokka fiddles with his phone, clicking through and refreshing all of his apps, as Zuko closes up the shop. 

Zuko’s uncle re-enters the shop from what looks to be the kitchen, giving Sokka a kind but puzzled look. 

“Oh! I can move if you need to clean, I’m waiting for Zuko,” he explains. This must’ve been the right thing to say, because Zuko’s uncle smiles widely.

“Nephew!” Zuko looks up from his sweeping, “I can finish up here, no need to keep…” He looks back at Sokka.

“Uh—Sokka,” he supplies, offering a little half-wave. 

“No need to keep Sokka waiting,” Sokka beams back at him excitedly before turning to look at Zuko. He must be warm from all the cleaning, Sokka figures, since his face is slightly flushed.

“Sweet! I’ll go get my car!” He’s out of the door before Zuko or his uncle can say anything else.

When he pulls up to the front of the store, Zuko is waiting outside, freshly adorned in some sort of a coat. Sokka is full of a sort of nervous anticipation he hasn’t experienced in a while. Maybe he should’ve thought this through more. What if Zuko decides he’s totally weird and goes back to hating him? What are they even going to talk about? He doesn’t have time to worry about that anymore, though, since Zuko is walking up to the car.

“Ready to roll?” Zuko raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t even know where we’re rolling  _ to _ ,” Sokka grins.

“That’s part of the fun! I’ll even let you choose the music!” Zuko rolls his eyes.

“How gracious of you,” 

“I know right! I’m a great host,” Sokka shifts his car into gear, “put on whatever emo tunes your heart desires” Zuko rolls his eyes, although if Sokka didn’t know any better, he’d say it almost looked a bit fond. 

“My music isn’t  _ that  _ emo,”

“Uh huh, I’ll be the judge of that,” 

Zuko’s music, is in fact, that emo. But Sokka doesn’t say anything. He meant it when he said he could play any music. Besides, it’s a nice way to fill up time until they reach their destination.

The sun has completely set by now, leaving the sky a hazy blue-green as it slowly gives way to darkness. Sokka taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the unrecgonizable rock song Zuko is currently blasting. 

“We’re going to the park?” Zuko’s got a combative look on his face. “You better not be taking me out here to kill me,” 

“I would never!” Sokka gasps in mock offense, “And it’s not just any park,” He motions for Zuko to exit the car as he does so himself. To the other boys credit, he does. 

They make their way down the hill to the pitch blackness of the park.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” Zuko whispers.

“Hang on,” Sokka searches his pocket for his phone, turning the flashlight on to reveal “It’s a zip line!” 

“How’d you find this?” 

“Believe it or not, we all need our brooding spots sometimes,” Sokka nudges Zuko with his elbow, “c’mon, I’ll push you up,” 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Zuko calls down to him from the top of the hill.

“Totally safe,” he places a hand on his heart, “Scout’s honor!” Sokka isn’t even a boy scout, but that’s just semantics.

Regardless, it seems like Zuko enjoys the zipline. At least, he isn’t as scowly as usual so Sokka counts that as a win. Sokka figured he would: it’s the perfect amount of adrenaline. And a great distraction.

They both zoom down the hill a couple times (at one point they try going together which is...less than successful). Eventually, Sokka grows distracted.

“Zuko.” Sokka whispers in exaggerated seriousness.

“What?” He isn’t sure why they both decided to keep their voices down. Unspoken rules of being in an open field after dark, he supposed.

“Race you to the swing set!” And they’re off. (Sokka wins by a decent bit, but he did have a head start, as Zuko so helpfully grumbles).

Sokka isn’t sure what comes over him. But for some reason, he decides he  _ has _ to use the baby swing. Maybe it’s residual nostalgia, or maybe it’s just impulsivity or a combination of the two.

“ _ What _ are you doing?” Zuko asks. Sokka makes a face at him.

“Um, swinging?” 

“But why—ugh! Never mind.” Sokka laughs lightly. He’s situated himself in the seat of the baby swing. The only problem is that he can’t fit his thighs through the leg holes. He brushes it off: he can work with this. 

“Zuko! Push me?” Zuko scowls but he walks over to Sokka anyways. For a good two minutes, it’s a great experience. Eventually Zuko stops pushing, his phone pinging with a message.

“I uh—have to get home soon,” He gestures to his phone. Sokka nods.

“Right, yeah,”

The plastic of the seat starts to feel extremely tight on Sokka’s leg. Exiting gracefully is clearly not possible. He attempts to maneuver himself out of it once, twice, three times but—

“Get out of the baby swing, Sokka!” 

“Slight problem with that,” Sokka laughs nervously. “I might be a little bit stuck,”

Zuko gapes at him. “Please tell me you’re joking,” Sokka starts to panic. 

“Nope, no, not joking,” As if he can hear Sokka’s imminent freakout in his voice, Zuko springs into action, walking over to examine the situation. 

“Okay, uh,” He grimaces, “can you do a handstand?” Sokka scowls.

“What kind of question is—” Oh. 

So that’s how Sokka ends up doing a handstand in the woodchips as Zuko attempts to pull the evil plastic swing off. Not how he expected his Saturday night to go, to say the least.

And Sokka won’t lie, that shit is kinda painful. He grits his teeth as the Zuko finally gets the blasted thing off his thighs in one swooping motion. The momentum is too much and it sends Sokka facefirst into the prickly ground. But he doesn’t much care because, if he had been stuck even a minute longer, he would’ve gone into full blown panic mode which would be less than ideal. Especially since he’s with Zuko.

“Ouch” He groans. And then Zuko’s helping him up. “How do I always get myself into these situations? It’s not my fault my legs are muscular!” 

The night must be playing tricks on his eyes, because he swears he sees Zuko blush, illuminated in the moonlight.

“What? I mean, yeah, uh,” Zuko pauses, “at least you got out?” 

  
  
“Yeah, otherwise—” Sokka’s ears pick up sirens in the distance. “What are the chances someone heard my pained screams and called the cops?” Zuko’s eyes widen.

“Shit.”

They sprint up the hill back to Sokka’s car, Sokka ignoring the throbbing in his legs. That’s definitely going to bruise.

But as they speed off, he finds himself laughing at the sheer absurdity of the whole thing. Even more surprisingly, Zuko gives the closest thing to a laugh Sokka’s ever heard out of him.

So maybe his legs will absolutely hate him for it. But Sokka counts the day as an overall win.

* * *

Despite the small debacle, Zuko found himself feeling strangely content in the days following his adventure with Sokka. After the other boy had accepted his apology he had felt far more relieved than he’d care to admit. But the fact that they might actually become friends is something he hadn’t dared to let himself consider. He probably shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought: friends are just a distraction, especially friends who are direct competition for valedictorian. At least, that’s what his father would tell him.

But more and more lately, Zuko had stopped caring as much. He wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen his father in a while. Or maybe it was just a temporary reprieve. Either way, it felt good to focus on something other than actively pushing everyone away. 

It’s enough to give Zuko a slight burst of confidence, enough so that, when he spots Sokka at his locker before class on Monday morning, he walks up to him.

“How are your legs?” His voice comes out low and quiet, but it’s still enough to startle Sokka.

“Spirits, Zuko! Give a guy some warning!” Zuko offers a semi-apologetic half-smirk, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay, but how are they?” Sokka grimaces.

“I didn’t realize bruises could be so many colours! They better be gone by Saturday or I will get mercilessly flamed by Suki!” He frowns. “And Toph, and Katara, and probably not Aang but still.”

Zuko gives him a confused look. “Saturday?”

  
Sokka brightens. “Yeah! Saturday! It’s soccer Senior Night, which basically is just a normal game but all the seniors get recognized and stuff!” Then, Sokka’s eyes light up, as if he’s just been struck with a great idea. “You should come!” Zuko must look as shocked as he feels by the invitation, because Sokka almost immediately starts backpeadling “If you want to, of course!” His voice is quieter and more nervous than usual. “No pressure, like—” Zuko cuts him off.

“I’ll come.” Now it’s Sokka’s turn to look suprised.

“Really?” Zuko nods.

“Someone has to give Toph a ride,” 

At that, Sokka bursts into a grin, launching into a story about the last time he drove Toph to a soccer game, which somehow included them getting pulled over and Sokka’s car popping a tire. Zuko can’t help the tentative half-smile that starts appearing on his face. Before he knows it, they’re walking down the hallway together to their respective classes. He can feel a couple people giving them looks, probably confused at their seemingly-sudden friendship, but he doesn’t mind all that much. It’s worth it to get to hear Sokka’s story (and maybe also to see the look on his face as he tells it). 

Zuko is still reveling in the newfound friendship by the time he arrives at Toph’s house that Saturday. He has to get himself together. He doesn’t want to subject himself to any more of Toph’s teasing than he has to.

He doesn’t have to wait long for Toph, who exists the gates of the Beifong Estate sans Appa, with her cane and a couple of poster boards in hand. Zuko rolls down the window to call out to her.

“No Appa?” Toph shakes her head.

“He’s at the vet,” she passes the posters to Zuko through the now-open window. He proceeds to throw them in the backseat.

“What’re those for?” Toph raises an eyebrow at him, situating herself in the passenger seat.

“Sokka, you dunderhead, what else?” Zuko scowls.

“I don’t know! I’ve never been to a school soccer game, or a senior night,” This causes her to grin for some unknown reason.

“I think it’s sweet that you’re breaking your tradition of being a Scrooge just for Snoozles,” 

“I’m not—why do you say it like that?” Toph feigns innocence.

“Like what?”

“Oh forget it,” Zuko’s grouchiness springs back up.

“I don’t mean anything by it,” she says, her tone normal again, “I’m just surprised that you’re willing to subject yourself to Katara’s wrath just for Sokka,” Zuko gulps. He hadn’t thought about that.

“I told you, we’re trying to be friends now,” Toph gets that increasingly-familiar conspiratorial look on her face.

“So I hear,” she clicks through channels on the radio, “you can just sit on the other side of me, away from Sugar Queen,” Zuko grunts in response. That’s fine by him. He’s sure he’ll have to talk to Katara at some point, which will definitely not be as seemingly-straightforward as his conversation with Sokka, but he doesn’t want to cause a scene. At least not when he’s a guest at Sokka’s event.

When they arrive at school field, it’s relatively crowded. Of course, no where near as busy as it was for the homecoming game, but it’s still a good turnout. At least, Zuko thinks it is. He isn’t really sure what constitutes a good turnout for soccer games. 

They weave their way through the bleachers, Zuko carrying the armful of posters that Toph had promptly handed them once they exited the car. Toph must come to a lot of these games, Zuko figures, because she’s able to find her friends in the crowd with ease. Presumably, they’re in their usual seats, with Katara on the far left, Sokka’s girlfriend (Suki, he thinks her name is), and then Aang. 

“Zuko!” Aang waves to him excitedly. He awkwardly waves back. 

  
  
Katara doesn’t waste a second before glaring at him. “What are  _ you  _ doing here,”

“I was—uh, Sokka invited me,” Her gaze is scrutinizing and justifiably harsh. It somehow gets more intense after he says this, as if she doesn’t believe him. Zuko matches her stare.

“Okay, enough of that,” Toph waves for him to sit down, taking the posters from his hands and passing them to Suki(?) who grins. “Please fight each other on your own time,”

“Gladly,” Katara grumbles, sinking back into her seat.

Luckily, Zuko and Toph cut it close enough that the game starts almost instantly. 

It doesn’t seem different from a normal game until halftime. Their team seems to be winning, from what Zuko can tell (the scoreboard is on his bad side so he can’t exactly  _ see _ it all that well, but based on the cheers he can make a reasonable deduction).

Once the clock runs out, a loud buzz indicating that the half is over blaring over the speakers, Sokka and some of his teammates start to line up on the field. 

Someone walks out to join them with a microphone. This, Zuko figures, must be senior night. 

He’s only half paying attention as the coach announces some of the other players. In fact, he’s slightly zoned out until Suki exclaims

“What happened to Sokka’s legs!” Zuko squints down at the field.

Sure enough, bright colored bruises litter his thighs, making perfect circles where the swing was pressing on them.

“Tui and La!” Katara exclaims.

Zuko tries to keep a neutral expression, but he somehow makes eye contact with Sokka on the field and instantly gets an absolutely ridiculous mental image of him, stuck in the swing, handstanding. And his amusement must show on his face, because Sokka promptly sticks his tongue at him. Zuko gestures to his legs. Sokka grimaces back at him. Zuko lets out a chuckle.

He’s so caught up in the silent exchange that he doesn’t realize the rest of the group (save Toph) is staring at him.

“Are you  _ laughing _ ?” Katara seems on the verge of outrage. 

“No! I mean, not at the fact that he’s hurt it’s just—the way it happened was funny,” That was apparently the wrong thing to say, since now they’re all looking at him like he’s grown another head. 

“You know an embarrassing Sokka story that I don’t? I gotta hear this!” Toph exclaims. He’s sure she would press him more on it, but it turns out to conveniently be Sokka’s turn to get introduced so they all hush up quickly. (And he might be biased, but he’s pretty sure Sokka gets the loudest cheers out of anyone).

Speaking of Sokka, it’s clear that he’s in his element on the soccer field. As the second half begins, Zuko attempts to reign in his less-than subtle staring, but it’s a futile attempt. But he doesn’t know any of the other players and Sokka’s evidently the best, Zuko rationalizes. 

He ignores the way his heart skips a beat when Sokka scores a goal, or when he sees the grin on his face, or when they exchange glances (at least Zuko thinks they do).

He knows he needs to stop: Sokka has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who happens to be sitting one spot away from Zuko on the bleachers. Luckily, Zuko is a master at repressing his feelings, so he shouldn’t have a problem. Besides, he’s probably just confusing his happiness at mending their relationship with  _ feelings _ .

But, Zuko decides, that can be a problem for tomorrow. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! oh my god what a week it's been
> 
> so for starters, this chapter is late by about half a week, entirely due to the fact that i got very sick over the week and was a blob for a couple of days. i should be back on track for next sunday (hopefully!!) but school has been...school (going to university during a pandemic is NOT the move, might i say)
> 
> but yes! sorry about the delay with this chapter! also it's so long again because I'm apparently incapable of being concise.
> 
> come say hi to me on tumblr if ya like @enzuras (i keep getting too nervous to post stuff on there but i'm gonna try!!)
> 
> see you all on sunday!!
> 
> -vallie (now with less of the stomach flu and more homework from missing class) <3


	5. october - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys being chaotic, driving, Mai and Ty Lee, and some more soccer.

As it turns out, Zuko’s not quite as good at repressing his emotions as he used to be.

He’s probably just rusty, he figures. After a few years of, quite decidedly, not feeling anything but moderate-to-severe disdain for his peers, Zuko’s ability to conceal positive emotions is a bit lacking. 

Mai says that he’s being, quote, ‘painfully obvious,’ but that’s probably just because she knows him so well. At least, that’s what Zuko hopes.

Sokka hasn’t said anything to him about it, so he must not know. The other boy doesn’t seem to have much of a filter, Zuko notices, at least when it comes to those kinds of things. Although, Zuko is suspecting more and more that it’s at least partially a facade. But what does he know?

Apparently, not math. He’s currently sitting across from Sokka in the library, completely stumped. It’s not his fault that the second derivative test is absolutely useless and makes no logical sense whatsoever. When he tells Sokka as much, he laughs good-heartedly.

“It  _ does  _ make sense! It’s just a couple more steps than the first derivative test and you figured that one out!” Zuko groans.

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s disgusting,” Sokka gasps in mock offense

“Ok, rude.” Zuko rolls his eyes.

“Not all of us can be math wizards,” Sokka meets him with an incredulous stare.

“There’s nothing magical about it! It’s pure logic!” 

  
“Mhm, sure,” Zuko turns back to his paper, attempting to solve the same problem for the third time. 

“It is!” Sokka protests. Zuko’s too focused on his work to bother with a response (seriously, why does Piandao feel the need to assign homework problems with so many steps? No question should have subsections for half the letters of the alphabet). 

“Hey Zuko,” Zuko finishes scribbling out the last of his solution, handing the sheet over to Sokka to review, before replying.

“Yes?”

“Why did the calculus teacher lose his license?” 

“I don’t know, why?” Zuko replies dryly. 

“He was drinking and deriving!” Sokka laughs amusedly at his own joke. Zuko catches himself before he smiles. That would be, as Mai said, far too obvious a reaction for a terrible math pun. 

“You’re hilarious,” is what Zuko decides to say. The amusement is clearly evident in his voice, because Sokka’s grin widens.

“I’m aware,” Zuko rolls his eyes again, but even he can tell it’s a mock annoyance.

The rest of the session passes quickly and Zuko has somehow managed to sort-of figure out the cursed invention that’s known as the second derivative test. He can’t wait until he never has to take a math class again. Although, he thinks wryly, if his father has anything to say about it he won’t be so lucky.

As they start packing up, getting ready to head to class (they walk together now, which is something Zuko probably won’t process for the next ten to twelve years) Sokka starts to get fidgety. He seems nervous, like there’s something on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite bring himself to say.

Zuko raises an eyebrow. Sokka just mimics his gesture, throwing an easy smile back onto his face. He decides not to push it. It’s not really his place to do that. 

They’re nearly to the AP Lang classroom, located squarely across the school from the library, when Sokka speaks again, now with a tentative voice.

“So,” he clears his throat, “the soccer championship is this weekend,” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, uh, it should be a good game,” Sokka scratches the back of his head. Zuko nods, unsure of what exactly Sokka’s getting at. “You should come!” Sokka says quickly, “I mean, if you want, and if you aren’t busy,” his eyes are flitting around nervous, the pair standing awkwardly in the doorway of the classroom to which they have just arrived. 

Zuko would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by the invitation. He stands there for a second, attempting to process, before realizing that he definitely needs to say something, lest Sokka think he’s mortally offended him.

“Yeah, okay,” Zuko’s attempt to sound nonchalant would likely get called out by anyone other than Sokka, who just beams at him.

“Sweet!” Sokka claps him on the shoulder, almost instinctively, the unexpected contact causing Zuko to tense up. Sokka retracts his hand almost instantly (and Zuko ignores how much he notices the absence). 

  
  
“You better win,” Zuko teases.

“Oh, you can bet on it,” Sokka replies smoothly, winking at him over his shoulder as they make their way to their respective seats.

Zuko can’t focus for the rest of the day.

He’s standing at his locker, absentmindedly throwing binders into his bag, when Aang finds him, an endearingly-common pep in his step.

“Zuko!” Aang has a wide smile on his face, waving happily at Zuko to get his attention. He gives a half-wave back, not really sure how to respond. “How was your day?”

“Uh,” Zuko isn’t really sure what Aang is getting at. Although, knowing Aang, he’s probably just genuinely curious about how Zuko’s day was. “It was okay,” and then, to be polite, he returns the question, “how was yours?”

Aang practically beams, “It was amazing! October weather is my favorite! Plus Katara and I came up with a great Halloween costume idea!” Zuko can feel his own mood increasing. He can’t believe he was ever an asshole to Aang. Now it’s practically impossible for him to be around the kid without feeling at least a little bit better. “What are your plans for Halloween?”

Zuko shrugs. “I don’t have any yet, still have lots of time to decide.” What Zuko doesn’t say is that he’ll probably end up watching horror movies with Mai and Ty Lee, or just staying in with his uncle. Both of which are relatively enjoyable options, but nonetheless. 

“You should come to our Halloween party!” Zuko shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t know, Aang. I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Aang looks puzzled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to intrude,” Zuko pauses before adding, “and I’m ninety percent sure Katara hates me, I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“She doesn’t hate you!” Zuko’s look of disbelief speaks for itself. “And it won’t be awkward! Toph and Sokka will make sure of that,” Aang gives a look that Zuko is probably supposed to understand, but he can’t quite read it.

“I don’t have a costume though,” He says lamely. Zuko is quickly running out of excuses.

“You should ask Sokka! I bet he would do a costume with you!” And there’s that weird look again. Zuko fiddles with the strap of his backpack, not meeting Aang earnest gaze.

“Won’t he be doing one with Suki?” Aang looks confused at this.

“I don’t think they have anything planned yet. Plus I’m pretty sure her and Toph are doing something,” Aang’s tone is thoughtful, but it just leaves Zuko more confused. He’s pretty sure he’d want to do a costume with his partner, but maybe Sokka and Suki aren’t like that? Their relationship keeps getting more and more confusing to him.

“I’ll, uh, think about it,” That seems to be enough for Aang, who somehow grins even bigger, babbling on to Zuko about the party some more until they’re both exited the school building and gone their separate ways.

There’s no way Zuko can go, right? It would be a bad idea, he tells himself. Doing things outside of school with Sokka, especially when he has to directly interact with him, does little to help his rapidly growing feelings. He doesn’t trust himself not to let something slip.

But he can’t quite ignore the part of himself that wants to go, even if he doesn’t feel compelled to listen.

The gears in his head keep turning. Luckily, Zuko doesn’t have much else planned for the day.

* * *

It feels strange to Sokka that his last soccer practice ever happens rather unceremoniously on a Thursday night.

  
There’s no big speech or heartfelt moment. Practice ends as it usually does, with all the guys chatting briefly and then heading to their respective cars. It’s so indistinct that Sokka wants to pinch himself. He’s not sure what he was expecting. They’ll probably do all that stuff on Saturday, he reasons. It still feels weird. Maybe he’s getting too sentimental.

This doesn’t help the mounting anxiety that’s been working its way up Sokka’s mental cavern. He’s getting flighty; he can feel it in his bones. It’s a horrible comorbidity, for this to be happening right before a very-important last thing. But there isn’t much Sokka can do about it. 

A drive, he decides, might clear his head. Or at least, give him something methodically to do while avoiding the very intense bittersweetness that’s threatening to settle in his chest. Luckily, he doesn’t have to bring Aang and Katara today, so a drive is very much possible. 

He’s walking down the main hallway, soccer bag swung over his shoulder and head in the clouds, when he quite literally runs into Zuko, who promptly drops the stack of papers he’s holding, sending them flying.

“Shit! I’m sorry dude!” Sokka scrambles to pick them up from where they’ve scattered across the linoleum floors.

“It’s fine,” Zuko is uncharacteristically calm. If this had happened a couple weeks ago, Sokka’s sure he would’ve gotten his head bit off. “I really should get a folder or something…” He’s sure Zuko must’ve noticed his unusual somberness because he trails off rather abruptly. 

Sokka hands him a stack of the papers, offering a forced smile that he instantly knows Zuko won’t buy. 

“Are you okay?” Zuko is painfully awkward, which tells Sokka that he’s being completely sincere. He isn’t sure how to process that. He shrugs.

“I’ll be fine,” Judging by the look on Zuko’s face, this answer does little to quell his concern, but he doesn’t ask again. 

They walk to the parking lot in a strange silence. Sokka’s about to say goodbye when his brain suddenly supplies him with something else.

“What are you doing right now?” Zuko looks confused.

“Going home?” Sokka takes a deep breath. This is absolutely a horrible mistake. But Sokka doesn’t want to be alone, not really. And Zuko, for all his past faults, is probably the least likely to expect a certain response out of him. Plus, the fact that they don’t really know each other will make it easier. Less pressure that way, Sokka thinks. 

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Zuko, to his credit, doesn’t react outside of offering a wary nod, depositing his backpack in his car before joining Sokka in his. 

It becomes almost instantly clear that Zuko doesn’t have much experience with Sokka’s particular brand of aimless driving.

“Where—uh, where are we going?” Sokka chuckles quietly.

“Nowhere, that’s the whole point.” Zuko evidently does not get it.

“You just...drive?” Sokka nods. “Why?”

“It’s relaxing, gives me something to do while I think,” There’s so much more Sokka could say, but he stops himself there, at least for now. 

“Driving is the opposite of relaxing,” Zuko says with a huff. Sokka doesn’t even have to look over to see him pouting. He laughs lightly.

“Not a good driver?” Zuko’s eyes narrow.

“What has Toph told you?” 

“Nothing, but now I’m curious,” Sokka’s full-on smiling now. The mental image of Toph and Zuko attempting to navigate together is just too good. 

“It’s really embarrassing,”

“Trust me, I’ve done plenty of embarrassing things. I won’t judge.” Zuko shifts in his seat.

“My car might have...caught on fire, while I was driving her home one day,” Sokka gawks at him. “Just a little, though,”

“How can something catch a ‘little bit’ on fire?” Sokka teases, but it’s light-hearted. 

“Okay, maybe it was more than a little bit. But we weren’t hurt! Doesn’t stop her from mercilessly teasing me about it every chance she gets,” Zuko grumbles. Sokka laughs.

“So  _ that’s  _ why she calls you Sparky! I was wondering where that came from,” Zuko lets out the closest thing to a laugh Sokka’s heard from him yet.

“Like I said, embarrassing,” 

Sokka shrugs. “I’ve heard worse, besides, nicknames are how you know Toph actually likes you,” Zuko hums in agreement. 

The ride in silence for a while after that, but the ice is effectively broken. Enough so that Sokka, in a stroke of boldness, decides he has to get it off his chest.

“Are you gonna miss high school?” Zuko thinks for a moment about it.

“Some parts of it, maybe. Why’d you ask?” 

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve been thinking about it alot. About whether or not this is the best my life will ever be, the best  _ I’ll  _ ever be.” Zuko frowns.

“It’s definitely not,” He speaks with a certainty Sokka had almost forgotten Zuko could have. Sokka’s silence speaks for itself. Zuko takes a deep breath. “My uncle always used to tell me that nothing in life is permanent, nothing good, but also nothing bad. ‘Life ebbs and flows like the tides, Zuko’ is what he would say ” Zuko laughs lightly, doing a hilariously terrible impersonation of his uncle. 

“That’s not a very comforting thought,” Sokka says wryly.

“Hang on,” Zuko huffs. “There’s a second part of it, at least, the way my uncle told it. ‘Only the moon can control the tides, but you can learn how to ride the waves.’” Sokka can feel Zuko’s stare on him, his face burning up under the intensity of it. He feels oddly seen. 

“I’m still not entirely sure what that means,” Zuko laughs.

“Me either,” he admits, “but I know that, if anyone’s smart enough to figure it out, it’s you,” Sokka feels his face flush. It’s a good thing it’s dark out, he thinks.

And then Sokka makes a mistake. He looks at Zuko. In the hazy glow of the red light, moon beaming down on one half of his face, he’s practically glowing. Sokka gulps. Suddenly his throat feels oddly dry.

He doesn’t know what to say. This side of Zuko is one he’s never seen before, one he wasn’t even sure existed. And Sokka isn’t sure what to do with it. Because this Zuko gets him, in a weird, uncanny way. They sit in a silence that is oddly companionable.

Sokka thinks he could bear his soul to this version of Zuko, if he got the chance. 

(He’s scared that he might).

* * *

Zuko isn’t quite sure how Mai and Ty Lee hijacked his Friday night shift at the Jasmine Dragon to turn it into some sort of an intervention, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his uncle was somehow involved. 

He’s sitting at one of the booths, still decked out in his green apron and scuffed-up work shoes, sipping a cup of jasmine tea and avoiding eye contact with the two girls, who are seating directly across from him.

“I’m supposed to be working right now!” Zuko grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest in a huff as he slouches back against the booth.

“Oh please,” Mai says, “the only work you’d be doing is avoiding your feelings,” Zuko glares at her.

“Not true!”

“You’re just proving my point.” Mai is unimpressed. Ty Lee is surprisingly quiet, observing the pair’s familiar bickering.

“In order to avoid my feelings I’d have to  _ have _ feelings to begin with! Y’know, besides friendship.”

“The feeling of friendship doesn’t send you into a gay panic at a football game,” 

“Says who? And it wasn’t a gay panic, it was just a...regular panic.” Zuko’s excuses are weak and they all know it. He prays to Agni that his uncle isn’t eavesdropping. He desperately does not want to have this conversation twice.

“Says me and anyone else with a brain!” 

“I second that!” Ty Lee pipes up. Zuko groans. 

“You guys aren’t gonna drop this, are you?” Ty Lee grins wickedly.

“Not a chance!”

Zuko groans once again. 

And then, as if the universe decides he needs more absolute chaos, the door chimes jingles and two familiar voices drift in.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath, low enough that Mai and Ty Lee don’t hear him.

Sure enough, Toph and Sokka make their way into the tea shop, Appa padding along happily beside them. 

At least, Zuko thinks Mai and Ty Lee don’t seem to notice them yet. He’s not even sure Mai and Ty Lee remember what they look like. He begs all the spirits to let them order their drinks to go and have them leave before they notice Zuko is here.

There’s no way he’ll be that lucky. Especially when his uncle seems to be dead set on ruining his life.

“Is Sparky here?” He hears Toph ask. Zuko attempts to disappear, prompting Mai and Ty Lee to give him strange looks.

His uncle, the traitor, replies in the affirmative. “Indeed, but he’s off the clock at the moment.” Zuko figures his uncle must’ve gestured to the booth, because Ty Lee’s eyes suddenly grow wide. 

“Zuko!” she whispers excitedly, “is that—” Mai throws a hand over her mouth just in time.

It’s barely a moment before Sokka and Toph are in front of them.

“Sparky! Why are you hiding in a booth?”

“I’m not  _ hiding _ ! I’m with Mai and Ty Lee.” His voice is indignant. He just wants this whole thing to over as quickly and painlessly as possible. Mai, Ty Lee, and Toph all meeting is a recipe for his imminent end.

“The same Mai you dated?” Toph’s voice is mischievous. 

“Unfortunately,” Zuko says through gritted teeth. Mai kicks him under the table. “Ow—hey!” Toph cackles.

Sokka, who has been watching the whole ordeal with an amused look on his voice, decides then is the perfect time to slide into the booth next to Zuko.

“Unfortunately for  _ me _ ,” Mai says icily. He wonders what Toph and Sokka make of this. It might seem strange from an outside perspective, even if such a conversation is relatively commonplace for the pair.

“I hate you all,” Zuko humphs. He immediately wishes he hadn’t, because Sokka decides to give him the most ridiculous puppy-dog eyes ever.

“But I didn’t do anything!” Zuko can feel his face burning. Mai, Ty Lee, and Toph all look like their own versions of the cat that ate the canary.

“Fine. I hate all of you except for Sokka,” Zuko wants to crawl into a hole and die. That would be too merciful a fate though.

Mai mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “we know,” but Zuko doesn’t dignify it with a response.

It’s then that his uncle decides to arrive, Sokka and Toph’s drinks in hand, along with a plate of the various pastries the Jasmine Dragon sells. 

“So,” Ty Lee’s voice is all-too-sweet, “you’re Sokka?” Sokka nods. “We’ve heard so much about you!”

“Good things, I hope?” Sokka laughs, a bit nervously. Ty Lee nods emphatically. 

Unsurprisingly to Zuko, Ty Lee and Sokka establish a rapport easily. They’re both the same kind of effortless conversationalists that Zuko and Mai are decidedly not. Toph chimes in occasionally, but mostly she looks happy to sit back and listen to the chaos. Zuko swears she can probably hear him stewing from his seat in the corner.

Zuko and Mai have a silent glaring contest, unaware that the rest of the group has stopped talking. 

“Okay, enough of the pseudo-lover’s quarrel!” Toph exclaims. “I can hear you being obnoxious from over here,”

“Somehow I think they’ve gotten worse than when they were actually dating!” Ty Lee says lightheartedly. 

“I resent that,” Zuko says, much less angrily than he has been speaking. 

“Same,” Mai chimes in “I would say that not having to fake attraction to men has made me significantly less hostile,”

“Ditto,” Zuko chimes in, “except, y’know, the opposite,” 

The only person who looks even remotely surprised by this statement is Sokka. Zuko’s not sure how. It’s pretty common knowledge around school that Zuko is gay. He’s not technically out, but he also isn’t hiding it.

Ty Lee segues the conversation without so much as a second thought and it continues fairly naturally from there. Whatever surprise Sokka may have felt seems to be moved past quickly, which Zuko takes as a good sign that he’s not homophobic or anything. Besides, he figures, there’s no way Toph would be friends with someone homophobic.

By the time they all eventually leave, Zuko is absolutely exhausted. He knows he needs to get a good night’s sleep: tomorrow is the soccer game and the sheer intensity of social interaction it requires will wipe him out. But he finds himself feeling restless.

It’s weird that his worlds are colliding, so to speak. Not bad, but definitely weird.

Maybe, Zuko dares to hope, it’ll make things even better than before.

That’s probably wishful thinking, but he’s been finding himself doing a lot of that lately. 

He can’t imagine why.

* * *

  
  


For all the anxiety that Sokka was feeling earlier in the week, he wakes up on the morning of the championship game feeling strangely calm.

He goes through the motions of his morning routine without a thought out of place. It’s become a ritual of sorts, after four years of doing the same thing each Saturday during the fall. A routine he’ll never use again, Sokka laments. 

  
Let the tides go as they may, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Zuko chimes in the back of his head. Sokka has half-a-mind to listen to it. Ultimately he doesn’t have time to decide: the bus is leaving for school field in approximately twenty minutes and he has yet to leave his house.

In the end, he barely makes it, in true Sokka fashion. His teammates all give him their typical tired smiles as he clamours onto the bus.

Sokka’s already nostalgic for it and it isn’t even over yet. 

When they arrive at the field, the routine is the same as usual, even if the atmosphere is a bit more somber than usual. Sokka relishes in the comfort of their warm-up drills. It feels as intuitive as breathing to him, perhaps even more so on occasions.

It’s in their team huddle, right as the game is about to start, that Sokka gets to make that heartfelt speech he was lamenting earlier in the week. He’s reeling so much that he doesn’t even process what he says. All he knows is the smiles on his teammates face and the energy with which they sing the school cheer.

He sees all his friends, Zuko now included in that statement, sitting in their usual spot on the bleachers. The smile Sokka gives them is anything but forced. 

The game itself is close; their opponents are clearly good. It’s hardfought, caught in a tie all the way up until the last two minutes.

Sokka scores a goal, breaking the tie. He’s running on pure adrenaline at this point and it’s invigorating. 

It’s pretty much won after that. All Sokka processes are the deafening cheers when the clock buzzes out. 

He feels great, for a solid twenty minutes. They take pictures and run their cool-down and Sokka is ready to take on the world.

Until his teammates start trickling out, one-by-one, each of their saying their varyingly personal goodbyes. It’s not like he’ll never see them again, there’s still the awards ceremony and team party, but it’s the last time they’ll all be together like this.

It’s just as bittersweet as Sokka expected.

Somehow, it seems that everyone in the stands has trickled out, save for Katara, who remains diligently planted in her seat. Sokka makes his way up to join her.

She jumps up, bounding over to him and embracing him tightly. “Sokka! That was amazing!” He hugs her back.

“Good way to go out, yeah?” Katara nods enthusiastically.  “I got the last goal on video to send to Dad! I’m sure Gran Gran will want to see it too,” Sokka nods, his smile noticeably more forced.

He doesn’t have to say anything for Katara to know what he’s thinking. Sokka sits down on the cold metal seat. Katara plops down next to him. 

“I know it’s not the same,” she concedes, “but at least it’s something,” Sokka nods. She’s right, he knows, but it still feels incomplete.

They’re the only people left in the arena now, sitting on the bleachers in a knowing silence, staring up at the moon with a kind of uniformity only two people who’ve grown up together can have. 

Sokka knows they should talk about the camelephant in the room. Or rather, in their entire relationship. But they don’t. They hardly admit to liking each other very much, so he doubts the topic will come up. Although, Katara’s been known to surprise him. And she does.

“I miss her,” Katara says quietly. He knows instantly that they’re talking about their mother. “You know it’s okay if you do too, right?”

“Of course I do,” Sokka can barely tell whether or not he’s lying. 

“It’s almost that time of year again,” Katara’s voice makes her sound wise beyond her years. She very well might be. “I always think it’s going to get easier,” her laugh is ironic, “but that would be too simple, huh?”

Sokka isn’t quite sure if it’s a rhetorical question. He’s not used to actually talking about these things with Katara. Usually it’s the main topic in their game of silently acknowledging difficult truths without actually discussing them.

“It’s not easier,” he concedes, “but it is different. Maybe that’s something, at least.” Katara’s smile is as kind and loving as ever.

Sokka can’t bear to look at her for very long. 

They sit a while longer, quietly.  It’s not quite as uncomfortable as it was, though.

He’ll count it as a win, even if it never does feel like one. 

Sokka counts. Inhale, exhale. He lets himself be the tide, going in and out, ebbing and flowing, looking up at the ever-determinate moon with a newfound admiration.

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi!!
> 
> hope everyone is having a great sunday evening!! i'm finally back on schedule woohoo!
> 
> school has been kicking my ass but at least the semester is finally almost over and then i never have to think about it again!!!
> 
> (as zuko would say, that's probably wishful thinking ;) )
> 
> anyways, i hope you like this chapter!! (it's shorter, and by that i mean it's a reasonable lengthy for once haha)
> 
> -vallie <3


	6. october- part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College applications, haunted houses, Halloween, and revelations. In that order. Sort of.

The end of October hurtles towards Sokka with the force of a charging arctic hippo.

In order to cope with this, he’s been doing the obvious: blasting hyperpop through both his half-broken headphones and car speakers, much to (almost) all of his passengers’ projected disdain.

“It’s not my fault that you don’t have taste!” Sokka calls out indignantly over the incessant sounds. Katara, who sits slouched in the backseat of the car alongside Aang and Toph, is extremely unimpressed.

She’s not a huge fan of hyper when it isn’t seven in the morning, so Sokka’s current coping strategy of blasting it on repeat during their commute has become a slight point of contention. (Okay, maybe slightly more than slight).

“We’ve been listening to it for twenty minutes! Your ‘taste’ is giving me a headache!“ Katara cries, covering her ears dramatically.

“I think it’s great,” Toph chimes in. Of course she does, she’s the one who introduced Sokka to the beautiful brain-scratching genre of hyperpop in the first place. This does little to quell Katara’s indignation.

A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals the look of moderate concern on Aang’s face, accompanied with a seemingly ever-present smile. Sokka is pretty sure that Aang is one song away from giving him car therapy. (That might not be the worst thing in the world).

The conversation is clearly going nowhere. Luckily Suki interferes.

“Sokka gets to play whatever he wants until college applications are done, and then no more until after break, how about that?” The siblings scowl at each other, but their bickering stops. 

If listening to the absolute chaos that is him and Toph’s combined playlist on Spotify brings Sokka momentary peace, he’s not going to deny himself of it. These next two weeks are shaping up to be absolutely brutal. 

The ever-dreaded early-decision-slash-regular-decision college application process is the only thing on his and the rest of his graduating class’ collective mind. Which is slightly problematic because Sokka has about seventeen other assignments due before the end of the month, all of which still have bearing on his class rank and GPA, on which his offers of acceptance might be based. Talk about a triple ugh. 

By now, his friends know better than to bring it up or ask the dreaded questions about where he’s going or what his SAT scores are, for which Sokka is abundantly grateful. Unfortunately, the rest of his classmates and acquaintances haven’t gotten the memo. And, instead of finding companionship in their shared stress, a surprising majority of people have resorted to self-recognized toxic comparison. 

Sokka isn’t above this, as much as he’d like to be. What starts as innocent attempts to find some company for his misery turns into unintentional humble-brag contests.

All he wants is someone to commiserate with. As much as he loves his friends, none of his closest ones are actively going through the process. 

Suki would be, but she’s decided to take a gap year. 

( “I want to keep training in Tessenjutsu,” she had told him, “plus I have no idea what I want to study. I’m not going to do it just to do it. I want to figure out what I’m passionate about before I dive in head first.”

Suki, Sokka thought, was the most badass person he’d ever met. But that was never really in question.

He only wished her self-assurance had rubbed off on him, at least a little bit.)

Sokka wonders, as he’s glancing distractedly around the art room during first period and neglecting his still life portraits, if Zuko would talk to him about it. This thought travels with him for the rest of his morning classes

Of course, there’s the very real possibility that he’ll instantly shut Sokka down, or worse, fall into the same aggressive comparison as the rest of the class seems to. But, and Sokka has nothing to base this on other than his instincts, he doesn’t think so. He hopes, at least, that they’re good enough friends now to support each other in this type of thing. It doesn’t hurt to try. (Hopefully).

As he rolls into the library, Sokka forces himself to adopt a moderate level of optimism that actually seems to be sort of working to improve his mood (but he doesn’t dare articulate this thought—no need to jinx it).

Zuko, who is already sitting—slouching, would be a more accurate term—at the table, looks as miserable as Sokka feels. He doesn’t actually look  _ bad _ , like in an objective way, Sokka thinks. He never really does, his subconscious adds unhelpfully. Just tired. And honestly, who isn’t? Even though everyone told him junior year would be the most difficult, Sokka’s found that the first semester of senior year has matched the academic intensity of the previous year, made worse by everyone’s collective bad mood.

As Sokka slides into the seat opposite Zuko, he shoots him a sympathetic grimace. 

“Ready for some math?” Sokka says lamely, weakly shaking his hands in an attempt at an enthusiastic hand gesture.

Zuko, it seems, at least has enough energy to meet him with a smirk. “No pun today? And to think, I was looking forward to it.”

“I’m too tired for puns,” Sokka slumps into the chair.

“But not for math?” 

“Funnily enough math is like, the one thing that doesn’t stress me out right now. And before you say anything—yes, I am aware that this makes me a nerd.” Zuko laughs, a light and breathy sound, as if he hasn’t done it in a while. 

Sokka mentally scolds himself. That’s a depressing and overly-psychoanalytic thought.

It turns out Piandao is having Zuko’s class work on probability, which is one of the simpler topics in Sokka’s opinion. Luckily, Zuko seems to agree and they breeze through the problem set despite their mutual exhaustion. The workflow between the two of them is nice and harmonious, a contrast so stark from the beginning of the year that the thought of it almost makes Sokka laugh.

Instead, he promptly drops his head on the gross, surprisingly cold library table.

“You might not want to get too close to that table,” Zuko’s voice is muffled and distant, “I don’t think they ever clean them.”

Sokka groans “At this point, I can’t bring myself to care.” He’s offered a sympathetic hum in response, and decides to take his chances. “I’m so sick of college applications, I just want to fast-forward to when I know where I’m going.”

“Tell me about it,” Zuko’s tone matches his own. “I still have to finish my essay, plus some of the supplements,” Sokka can’t help his surprised expression, but immediately starts to backpedal when he sees Zuko begin to close into himself.

“Hey, no judgement from me, I’m in the same boat,” he says quickly. “I’m just surprised, since you’re like the best writer in the whole class,” Sokka frowns to himself, “although nothing makes you immune from writer’s block I s’pose.” 

“Not exactly writer’s block…” Zuko mumbles, but Sokka doesn’t press on it. 

“At least we’re almost done!” He attempts to infuse some optimism into his voice, “before October ends we will be anyways,”

“If I even manage to finish mine,” It’s Zuko’s turn to slump on the table.

“Y’know, you shouldn’t put your head on those tables, a friend of mine said they don’t ever clean them,” A smirk appears on Sokka’s face.

“Well, I can’t bring myself to care!” Sokka’s smile widens. Zuko, however, remains hunched over. He mumbles something incoherent. All the talk of looming deadlines has reminded Sokka of another event of totally equal importance at the end of the month.

“Oh yeah! You’re coming to the Halloween party right? Do you know what you’re wearing yet? I was going to do a costume with Suki but apparently her and Toph had an idea so now I’m stuck—oh shit I’m rambling, but you get the point.” Zuko is avoiding his eyes.

“Uh, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come, it depends on if I’ve finished my applications yet,” he grimaces. “Early deadlines,” Sokka frowns.

“Dude,” he pauses for dramatic effect. “You can’t spend your Halloween working on college applications!” 

“I might not have a choice,” Zuko grumbles sourly. Sokka tilts his head in contemplation, squinting his eyes and assuming what Katara has not-so-nicely dubbed his owl position. He can’t help it, when he’s thinking he sometimes looks like an owl. And right now, he’s got an idea.

“I don’t know how you feel about study buddies,” Zuko shoots him a look of confusion. “But if you need motivation to work, we could always meet up sometime, to study!” Sokka is getting increasingly nervous as he continues talking, but he can’t stop now. “And I can help! If you want me to, of course, although you’re a great writer so I doubt you’ll need it but still—”

“You would do that?” 

“Sure,” Sokka says gamely, “I need to finish a couple of mine anyways, so y’know two birds, one stone.” Zuko still looks confused.

“Why?”

“Contrary to popular belief I am not, in fact, on top of my shit.”

“No, I mean, why do you want to help me?”

Sokka shrugs, “I want you to be able to come to the party.”

“You do?” Now it’s Sokka’s turn to be confused.

“Of course, it’s practically a right of passage!” He’d thought that much was obvious, but the look on Zuko’s face makes it very obvious that it wasn’t. It’s not an expression Sokka has ever seen the other boy make before. It’s much softer than his usual grumpy mannerisms and for some reason it makes Sokka’s stomach flip.

He doesn’t want to think about that too much. At least, until he’ll inevitably ruminate on it. But that’s Future Sokka’s problem. Current Sokka just wants to finish the school day without a full blown crisis. So, Sokka fixes Zuko with one of his usual grins and shakes off whatever just happened. 

“C’mon, we don’t wanna be late to English.”

* * *

College applications are the bane of Zuko’s existence for a number of reasons, the primary one being that he has absolutely no idea how to cram the entirety of his moderately-shitty life into 650 words with a happy, optimistic ending. 

It doesn’t help that with each passing time he sits down to try and write it and fails, he gets increasingly frustrated. He’s been trying to write it since August, but every inkling of an idea he comes up with feels corny or uninspired. 

For someone with so much to theoretically write about and a relatively high level of writing talent, Zuko is absolutely struggling. And he’s running out of time. Early deadlines are in less than two weeks and all he has are a couple of bullet points. The rest of his application is done, of course, it has been for almost a month. But it just feels  _ weird  _ that he has to either relive the most traumatic day of his life and water it down into a nice, focused essay or just not talk about it altogether. 

Neither option feels quite right. Not to mention the admissions officers at Caldera College probably wouldn’t be too happy to read about how their largest donor and most successful alumni treats his son. (Treats or treated? Zuko can’t quite figure out if it’s past tense or not. He files that away with problems for his future self).

That is, of course, the camelephant in the room. His father. 

Who, approximately two hours ago, contacted him for the first time in years.

So things are going pretty horrible, to put it simply.

Luckily he has at least three things keeping him going: the upcoming theatre production of Love Amongst the Dragons he’s preparing for, chronic existential anxiety, and Mai’s support, disgusted as vague threats. And Sokka (at least, he thinks).

When he says it like that it sounds more important than it is. But, when Zuko is in the mood to admit it to himself, his friendship with Sokka has become increasingly important to him in a scarily short amount of time. Mai always raises a wordless eyebrow at him if this gets brought up in conversation, like she knows something he doesn’t. She probably does, but that doesn’t stop it from annoying Zuko.

“I just don’t see how that’s a problem,” is what Mai says when he pesters her for an explanation. They’re sitting at one of the corner tables at the Jasmine Dragon on Zuko’s lunch break, sipping their respective cups of jasmine tea. Or, in Zuko’s case, absent-mindely toying with the now-lukewarm drink.

It’s the night before him and Sokka are supposed to meet up and work on their applications, so naturally Zuko is slightly falling apart. This thought spiral is only made worse by his father’s looming presence. 

“What do you mean you ‘don’t see how it’s a problem’?” Zuko exclaims, “it is very much a problem!” Mai looks unimpressed.

“Because you like him.” She’s not asking a question.

“I never said that!” Zuko’s indignance is clearly feigned. 

“You didn’t have to,” They’re scowling at each other now, an all-too-familiar sight for anyone who might have been cursed with knowing either of them while they dated. 

This staring contest continues for at least five minutes, but Zuko eventually breaks it. There’s no way he could beat Mai at it anyways, and it doesn’t help that she isn’t exactly wrong about why he’s so stressed. She just doesn’t know about the extra variable. 

He could tell Mai about it. But something holds him back.

At first he thinks it might be the looming thought of Azula somehow finding out, or being behind it. Despite most of his fears being unfounded, Zuko always had a looming sense that she was somehow spying on him. Not that she would ever admit to it. 

Once he thinks about it for more than five minutes, Zuko starts to realize that it’s something else. Something that he isn’t keen to hear Mai’s reaction to. 

“Zuko,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft, “you worry too much.” 

He bites back a snippy remark in favor of letting out a sigh. Mai tilts her head towards him in sympathy. There’s isn’t time for much else, but it’s comforting, more so than Mai likely realizes. Although, Zuko thinks, he should stop underestimating how well she knows him.

This is one thing he briefly considers on his drive over to the library, in between the incessant sounds of the music he’s playing in a feeble attempt to stop said thinking. 

Their town library is an unassuming limestone building, with honeycomb-shaped protrusions around the windows. No one is quite sure what the reason for this is, but it’s certainly a far different effect from the elaborate library he used to frequent on Caldera College’s campus. 

Despite the rather cold atmosphere, Zuko thinks he might prefer this library. But that could just be a matter of his company. 

Sokka is already sprawled out at a table on the fourth floor when Zuko arrives, winded and regretting his decision to take the stairs. For some reason no matter how good of shape he’s in, stairs always get him. 

“Zuko!” Sokka’s voice is loud, carrying through the aisles and earning him glares from those perusing the shelves. He seems unaffected by it. Zuko smiles back sheepishly, offering a wave that he can only assume is incredibly awkward.

He makes his way over to the table and studiously unpacks. They work quietly for a while, which means Sokka alternates between furiously typing on his laptop and twirling a pencil and Zuko stares at his notebook.

“Still stumped?” Sokka asks, much quieter this time.

“That’s one way to put it,” Zuko can’t help the residual frustration that ends up in his tone. Sokka gives a thoughtful look.

“Well, what’s your topic?” Zuko blinks. “For your essay?” His mind goes blank.

“Uh, I haven’t exactly…decided yet,” Zuko scratches the back of his head, avoiding Sokka’s eyes. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit this, but when he looks back up he doesn’t sense any judgement from Sokka. Mostly just...concern. Which is more confusing in that’s its wildly unfamiliar territory for Zuko.

“What ideas do you have?” Sokka’s stare is inquisitive and sincere. Zuko looks down at his empty page, concentrating intensely on the pen in his hand.

“I guess I don’t know how personal to be, or how to be personal without being cliche,” He’s sure Sokka could reasonably guess what his potential topic is, considering it’s a permanent fixture of his face, but if the other boy makes this connection, he doesn’t say so. “I don’t even know what these schools want!”

Sokka is quiet for a moment, almost long enough that Zuko thinks he might not say anything at all. “This might not be very helpful advice,” Sokka breathes, “or very good advice, but I think you should focus on what you want to say about yourself, not what you want these schools to think. However much you want to tell is up to you, but a school that doesn’t want you based on the essay probably isn’t a place that you want to go anyways.”    
  
Zuko doesn’t know what to say to that. Sokka is right, in more ways than one. From a logical standpoint it isn’t good advice: he should try to optimize his chances of getting accepted however possible. But that’s what his father cares about. Not him.

Sokka peers at him. “Was that wildly unhelpful? Sorry, I’m—” Zuko cuts him off.

“No, it was good,” Sokka looks as relieved as Zuko feels. 

It’s not an instant influx of ideas or divine inspiration after that, but looking at his drafts and scribbled mind maps and life stories, Zuko starts to feel like he has a direction.

He exhales. And starts to write. 

* * *

Sokka leaves the library that Saturday feeling unusually accomplished. Zuko seems to feel the same, or at least good enough to agree to Sokka’s improteau idea and sort-of road trip to a nearby haunted house. 

The local haunted house is about a forty-five minute drive north of the sort-of city, which leaves ample time during the car ride for Sokka to grill his companion about previous haunted house experiences or, in Zuko’s case, lack thereof. 

Only four minutes in, Sokka has already begun devising his plan, which he promptly tells Zuko. 

“The main thing we have to do is the haunted maze! It’s the only one where you actually have to figure anything out, the rest of them are super straightforward. Fun, but straightforward nonetheless!” Sokka doesn’t catch the apprehensive look on Zuko’s face when he says ‘maze’ but he can pretty much feel it in his response.

“Do people ever get...stuck in the maze?” Sokka laughs easily

“Nope! At least, not when they’re with me! I’m a master strategist!” That gets Zuko to laugh, although Sokka is only kind of joking. Every time he’s gone to the haunted house in the past he has, without fail, been the one to get the group out of the maze.

They pull into the parking lot, which is really just a mown-down cornfield sectioned off from the rest of the park. Above them, the sky is suddenly full of stars, much easier to see outside of the city lights. This, Sokka thinks, might be his real favorite part about the haunted house. Something about the atmosphere, the smell of leaves and funnel cake, is amazingly autumnal. 

Once they finally get their appropriate tickets, Sokka eagerly drags Zuko around to the various attractions. 

Two knife throwing games (which Zuko is surprisingly good at, a fact he attributes to Mai), a haunted hayride, and a lot of fried food later, they finally make their way to the maze. Sokka is bursting with excitement. Zuko, on the other hand, is decidedly not. 

They make it through the first few sections without much trouble, until Sokka makes a slight rookie mistake and follows the group in front of them. A right turn instead of a left one. And then, the people they followed are somehow gone. Great.

Sokka isn’t too worried—it’s normal for them to get slightly lost. It’s practically tradition at this point. Unfortunately, this is a tradition Zuko isn’t aware of. 

“ _ Sokka!” _ Zuko hisses, “ _ how do we get out of here!” _ He’s been whispering for the entirety of their time in the maze, claiming that the darkness makes it almost automatic. Sokka is a bit caught off guard by this because he isn’t sure that Zuko has ever said his name before and the funnel cake must be doing something to his stomach.

He quickly shakes himself out of it, largely because he can tell Zuko is on the verge of slightly freaking out.

  
“Here” he holds out his arm “link up with me,” 

_ “What?” _ If it weren’t dark out Sokka would swear Zuko was blushing, but shadows must be playing tricks on his eyes.

“Link arms with me! That way we can’t get separated!” 

Despite whatever hesitations he might have, Zuko weaves his with Sokka’s. “ _ Are you sure you know where you’re going?” _ he asks. Sokka’s smile is lost in the nighttime sky.

“Do you trust me?” 

Zuko doesn’t hesitate, “I do,” Sokka’s grin now feels bright enough to glow in the dark.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Almost a week later, Sokka is still riding on the high of being done with college applications, accompanied with the warm feeling that newfound friendship always brings. Enough so that he’s able to mostly drown out Suki’s incessant nagging as they’re getting ready for the Halloween party in her basement bathroom. He’s pretty sure she’s presently going on about his and Zuko’s somewhat-unlikely friendship, but he’s too focused on applying his costume makeup to fully pay attention.

“I’m just confused! One week you’re complaining about him and the next you guys are going to a haunted house together?”

“Suki I don’t know what you’re going on about! Besides, you were the one who told me to be friends with him!” 

Suki narrows her eyes “I specifically remember telling you that you  _ didn’t _ have to be friends with him.” 

“Semantics,” Sokka waves her off, but Suki doesn’t budge. 

“I’m just confused, that’s all. It seems like you two have gone from hating each other to being all buddy-buddy pretty fast.” 

“It’s called being a paragon of maturity!” He puffs up his chest haughtily, attempting to diffuse her pestering.

“Clearly,” Suki isn’t buying it, but Sokka isn’t sure what else to tell her.

He meets her eyes so she knows he’s being sincere. “Suki, there really isn’t anything else to it. Zuko apologized, so we moved on. No point in holding grudges.” Sokka stops before adding, as an afterthought, “Plus he isn’t bad company, once you get past all seventeen layers of angst.”

“You’re one to talk about angst,” Suki says slyly. Sokka pretends to be offended at this.

“I’ll have you know that in addition to being a paragon of maturity I’m also a paragon of...happiness?” This earns him an eye roll. “What’s your costume supposed to be?” It’s an incredibly obvious attempt to change the subject but Suki allows it.

“I’m a star,” Suki says plainly. “It’ll make more sense when you see Toph’s costume.”

“I still can’t believe you ditched me for Toph! I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this Suki!” Sokka throws his hands over his heart dramatically. 

“Oh please, I’ve heard no complaints from you about doing a costume with Zuko,” she raises her eyebrows at him, as if she’s insinuating something. Sokka frowns.

“Uh yeah, because our costumes are  _ cool _ ,” Suki smacks her forehead in apparent exasperation. For a second he thinks she’s going to say something else, but she seems to decide against it.

“They sure are,” She’s not being sarcastic, but he can tell there’s something she isn’t saying. Whatever it is, Sokka figures that if it’s important enough she’ll tell him eventually.

Besides, he has to finish getting ready. 

* * *

  
  


Zuko is already sitting on the front step of the Jasmine Dragon when Sokka’s car pulls up. He scrambles to his feet, triple checking that he has all the pieces of his semi-impromptu costume before heading to the car.

Sokka, it had turned out, also hadn’t had a costume idea. The combination of their lack of time and reluctance to spend money on something elaborate led Zuko to the grand idea of borrowing costumes from the theatre so they could be characters from  _ Love Amongst the Dragons _ . 

He’d half expected Sokka to immediately shoot this idea down. Mostly, Zuko wasn’t sure that Sokka would even be familiar with the play. But, much to his surprise, his suggestion received an automatic yes.

Which left Zuko here, in Sokka’s car, deck out in the costume he’d be performing the play in only a few weeks later.

Sokka, he decided once he entered the car, looked unfairly good in his costume. But that was a thought Zuko wasn’t keen to process anytime soon.

The annual Halloween party was supposedly a pretty big deal within the group of friends, at least that’s what Sokka had animatedly described on the drive over. This year it was being hosted by Haru, whose father was somehow okay with a bunch of highschoolers hanging out in his basement. Although maybe that was normal for fathers. Zuko wouldn’t know. But there would be plenty of time to ruminate on that later. 

He’s never spoken to Haru, but Sokka has good things to say about him. And Zuko supposes that anyone who is willing to host this many people at their house can’t be all that bad. 

Sure enough, their host opens the door a prompt two seconds after they ring the doorbell, grinning. “I’m so glad you guys are here!” Haru gestures for them to enter.

The chattering noise and faint music of the party can be heard all the way from the foyer, as Sokka and Zuko deposit their shoes and coats by the front door and follow Haru through the hallway and descend the stairs to the basement. 

Haru’s basement is masterfully decked out for the occasion, with colorful lights adorning the walls, accompanied by various bats and spiders in true Halloween fashion.

It’s the most like a teenager Zuko’s felt since he’s been one. 

“Toph,” Sokka’s voice is serious as he calls out to her, but his eyes are twinkling, “I say this in the nicest way possible: what the fuck are you wearing?”

As she comes into view, Zuko takes in the grey ensemble that Toph has decided to don for the party and arrives at a similar sentiment to Sokka. To top it all off, she’s got a hat on that seems to have some kind of grey styrofoam affixed to it. 

“Are you supposed to be a…camelephant?” Zuko tries. Which seems to be the wrong answer judging on Toph’s reaction, but at least it earns him a laugh from both her and Sokka. 

“Snoozles! Go get Suki!” she says. Sokka groans, but obliges, heading into the small crowd to go find her. Toph then turns to him.

“So Sparky, word on the street is that you two are all matchy-matchy?” 

“Who told you that!” Zuko can’t help but get defensive, which is precisely what Toph was expecting. “Also please don’t say ‘matchy-matchy,’ for the next several thousand years,” he glances around “and we aren’t matching exactly, just two characters from the same play,”

“Okay, okay I believe you, but you’re gonna have to literally spell it out to me.” She waves her hand in front of her eyes. 

Zuko does so happily, offering Toph a brief description of  _ Love Amongst the Dragons _ that includes lengthy explanations of both his and Sokka’s costumes.

As he’s talking, he spots Aang and Katara across the room. They’re dressed as something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s almost certainly a couple’s costume. Aang waves to him, and he returns it, momentarily pausing his elaborate spiel. Katara, however, does not look too happy to see him. Zuko doesn’t think about this too long, opting to turn back to Toph and finish his story. That’s a necessary conversation for another time.

There have been a lot of those moments recently, Zuko realizes.

By the time he’s finished, Sokka has returned with Suki, who gives him a warm smile in greeting. 

Her attire is very...sparkly. And gold. But Zuko has no clue what it has to do with Toph’s, though he’s pretty sure they’re about to tell him.

Sokka however seems to be piecing it together. “Suki’s a star and Toph is...grey?” He groans. “Rockstar? Your costume is rockstar.”

They both grin at him.

“That is...incredibly stupid,” Sokka exclaims, “and also I’m moderately jealous that I didn’t come up with it.” Zuko hums in agreement. It does seem like the kind of idea Sokka might have. 

Toph punches Sokka on the arm. “You’ll get us next year, Captain Boomerang!” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Sokka sighs, looking a bit disheartened. He nudges Zuko, “c’mon let’s go get some punch.”

So they do.

Much to Zuko’s surprise, Sokka is by his side for almost the entire party. He wasn’t expecting to get ditched or anything, but he knows full well that Sokka is friends with almost everyone here. And definitely has been for longer than they have, anyways. But, for at least the past half hour they’ve been huddled in the corner discussing some urban legend Sokka heard about the town just north of theirs. There’s a lull in the conversation, so Zuko figures he might as well ask. 

“Are you upset about the costume? Or, I mean, were you? Earlier?” Sokka looks confused.

“The cost—oh, with Toph and Suki?” Zuko nods. “No, that wasn’t it. I mean, I was—” Sokka stops mid sentence. 

The room is full of jovial noise, blaring music, and flashing lights. 

“I’m just going to miss them and my brain has already started missing them when they’re still here.” 

Zuko thinks he gets it now, just how much Sokka loves his friends. How much they all love each other. Why he’s sad that there won’t be a Halloween like this next year. It’s a strangely sappy thought, but he’s increasingly finding that he doesn’t mind those as much as he used to. It’s definitely Sokka’s fault.

But, Zuko supposes, there’s never really any year that’s quite like the last. He, of all people, would know that. 

“And they’re going to miss you,” is all he can say. “Everyone here will, I’m sure.” 

Sokka looks at him, “Are you included in everyone?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zuko can’t quite see how Sokka responds: the lights are bright and flashing and the music is making it hard to concentrate. “And, for the record, I think our costume is definitely the best.”

Sound practically surrounds them, but the pause Sokka takes makes the whole room feel quiet.

“Yeah,” he says so quietly Zuko can barely hear, “I think so too.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!
> 
> w o w . i cannot believe it's been almost two months.
> 
> i'll spare you all the details, but it's been quite the holiday season for me mentally and i've only just gotten back into writing. as of now i should be back on my schedule, so i'll be posting again on sunday if all goes well!
> 
> i really appreciate everyone who commented on the last chapter! i'll be responding to those as soon as i can! my mental batteries have been extremely low so i haven't been able to until now.
> 
> anyways, enough of that. hope everyone is well! 
> 
> (also, writing about october in january is weird but i'm just rolling with it)
> 
> -vallie <3


	7. november - part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November is...complicated. A couple family reunions with moderate amounts of success. A moment (or two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end note for cws

The first sign of trouble should’ve been the sleek black car that had stationed itself in the Jasmine Dragon parking lot. 

Granted, Zuko had grown lazy. At least, that’s what Azula would say at his failure to notice the less-than-inconspicuous vehicle. But, in his defense, it was approximately five-thirty in the morning when he first saw it as he flipped the sign from closed to open. 

That was hardly an excuse, and it was an oversight that would cost him valuable preparation time. Because right when the clock struck six, the door to the shop was flung open with an air of entitled impatience. Zuko was in the middle of polishing a teapot, so he didn’t look up before launching into his standard customer service spiel. This was his second mistake.

“Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon what can I—“ it was then that he finally looked over. His eyes widened “Azula?” 

“Don’t stop on my account,” her tone is somehow still familiar after years of not hearing it. She placed her hand on the counter, fingers perfectly manicured; filed to a point with black polish adorning them, unchipped. 

Zuko found himself speechless. Surely this is an early morning hallucination, the combined product of chronic sleep deprivation and his increasing paranoia. He wrenches his eyes shut, squeezing them tightly. 

When he opens them, Azula is still there, looking moderately irritated. (Which, Zuko supposes, is a rather normal emotion for her). “Well?” She taps her foot impatiently. “Aren’t you going to take my order?” He narrows his eyes.

“What do you want, Azula?” His tone is harsh, but she is unfazed by it, as always.

“That’s no way to talk to a paying customer, Zuzu,” she chides, “I’ll have a black coffee,” 

“Don’t call me that!” The anger that Azula provokes is almost instinctual. “And we don’t have coffee, it’s a tea shop!” His indignation only amuses her further.

“Fine, black tea then. You’d better not burn it.” Zuko glares at her. She just raises an eyebrow at him. Somehow this is always how their conversations end up: Zuko gets angry and Azula wins. Even when it isn’t a fight, she always gets what she wants. He really thought he had made progress, yet here he was falling into these old patterns. 

They sit in stiff silence as Zuko makes Azula’s tea. Maybe he burnt it a little, just to be petty in a way only his sister could bring out. If she noticed, she didn’t comment on it, sipping from the cup with a calculating look on her face. Zuko figured Azula didn’t have much experience drinking tea. Their father was adamant that they drink coffee if they wanted energy. No need to waste time on something that doesn’t make you better.

“What are you doing here, Azula?” Zuko made sure his voice was calmer this time. He forced himself to meet her eyes. It was one of the single most uncomfortable moments in Zuko’s recent memory, and that’s saying something. 

“I’ve got a message for you,” she said cryptically. “From father, of course.”

“You’re playing messenger now? I would’ve thought that was below you. Does father not believe in text messages?”

“I’m not playing anything,” Azula says “And father says you didn’t respond to his message.” She mimics his tone. “I have an invitation.”

Zuko scowls. “An invitation? Does that mean I have a choice?” She actually laughs at this, a sweet, maniacal kind of laugh that is eerily familiar and yet still unsettling. 

“You and I both know the answer to that,” he supposes they both do. Azula’s just better at accepting it. Or something like that. 

“Fine. What’s the invitation?” 

“Dinner, on the thirty-first. Father will be home and wants you to join us.” Zuko can read between the lines. ‘Wants’ is a nice way of saying ‘requires.’ He frowns. If his father isn’t coming home until the end of the month, it means Azula will be by herself the whole break. Although Zuko figures, that’s probably pretty common. (And, if he’s being honest, probably for the best). 

It’s not the first time he feels guilty for leaving Azula with their dad. She’d probably find a way to smite him if he voiced this thought, though.

“Wonderful. Are you done harassing me at my place of work?”

Azula hesitates for a moment, in a way he hasn’t seen her since they were children. It’s brief, but he doesn’t miss it. For a second, Zuko thinks she might say something uncalculated, the constant stoniness softening as quickly as it returns. But no. He’s not sure they’ll ever have a conversation like that. Not now, anyways.

“It’s Uncle’s tea shop, it’s hardly a ‘place of work’ Zuko, besides, is a conversation with your sister harassment?” 

“Yes..” Zuko mutters under his breath. Azula either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because she drains the last of the tea from the cup and promptly stands up.

“Don’t be late for dinner, Zuzu. Father wouldn’t be happy about that.” Before he can say anything, offer some witty comeback or retort, she’s turned on her heel and exited the store with as much bravado as she entered with. 

Zuko looks at the clock. It’s barely been twenty minutes.

He sighs. This is going to be a long day. 

By the time his shift finally finishes about six hours later, Zuko all but collapses on the couch. He was surprisingly grateful for the business at the shop today: it kept his mind off Azula and, more importantly, off his father. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until his uncle returns a couple hours later and Zuko shoots awake at the sound of the door closing.

When he jumps, startled at the noise, his uncle almost immediately looks concerned. 

“Nephew, are you alright? I don’t think I’ve seen you nap in years,” his uncle chuckles. 

Zuko has a quick internal debate. He knows he should tell Uncle about his father, about Azula, about the dinner. But also the thought of speaking about any of it makes him want to tear his ears off and spontaneously uproot his life and move across the country. 

So what if that’s a little dramatic. Considering his father, Zuko thinks it’s actually a pretty tame response. 

“Just tired, Uncle.” Yeah, there’s no way his uncle bought that. He would’ve been better off saying nothing at all. But alas, Zuko can’t catch a break today.

It’s quiet for a few moments.

“Zuko,” his uncle’s voice is serious. “Did something happen?”

He sighs.

“Azula came to the shop today,” Zuko says quietly. He doesn’t get a response. Instead, his uncle walks over and sits down next to him. 

“What did she have to say?” 

“Told me to come to dinner with her and father,” Zuko sighs. “I probably shouldn’t have ignored his message.” Iroh frowns.

“Your father contacted you? When?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Zuko can’t meet his uncle’s gaze, the back of his neck heating with what he can only assume is shame. He knows he should’ve told his uncle about it right when it happened. As much as wanted it to, ignoring the issue wouldn’t make it go away. Not in the case of his father. 

“And you didn’t respond?”

“No,” Zuko says haughtily, crossing his arms. “I don’t want to talk to him, to either of them. I guess I don’t have a choice anymore.” That last part comes out seeping with bitterness. His uncle places a cautious, comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Zuko, you always have a choice.” His responding laugh is cold and bitter, a type of cold humour he hasn’t felt in a while.

“Not if I want to keep my other eye,” he mutters “until I’m eighteen there isn’t much I can do. He’s still my legal guardian.” Zuko doesn’t have to look at his uncle to know the look of deep sadness on his face. 

His uncle is clearly contemplative, but Zuko doesn’t feel like waiting around for some sage advice or a potential solution at the moment. 

Instead, he stands up quickly. “Goodnight, Uncle.”

“Zuko—“ 

He doesn’t wait to hear his uncle’s response. Zuko is tired. All he wants is to sleep for approximately seventy years.

There’s no way he’ll be able to focus on finals now. Or the upcoming play. Or pretty much anything. Shit.

Zuko flops onto his bed, groaning into the pillow dramatically. He wants to get struck down by lightning. That would be less painful. 

But Zuko would never be that lucky. 

* * *

Sokka is practically giddy with excitement as he bounds to the car after Kyoshi Warriors training. They have a competition coming up so they’ve doubled up on practices, much to him and Suki’s mutual excitement. 

But today is especially exciting, because his father is coming home.

“Are you… _ skipping _ ?” Suki squints at him as they make their way to the parking lot, gym bags over their shoulders and water bottles in hand. Sokka abruptly stops.

“No…okay yes, sue me, I’m excited.” She smiles at him kindly: Suki knows how much Sokka misses his dad every time he leaves for work. How could he not?

Hakoda works in commercial fishing in Alaska, but is currently coming back from a visit to Nunavut with Bato, his best friend. Sokka remembers when they used to live there year-round, when his mom was still alive. His dad would take him on fishing trips every season.

(Sokka didn’t realize how finite everything was at the time. He thought it would all last forever. The only place it still lives is in his mind).

Those memories are kinder than most, although Sokka does lament the fact that he never got to go ice dodging. Maybe Bato will take him this summer. Graduating high school should be enough to convince him.

His smile widens as he remembers that his dad’s best friend is also coming back for the visit. Now Sokka really can’t wait. 

And he doesn’t have to wait long, but even the fifteen minute drive from the school to Suki’s house and then back to his feels unbearable. The anticipation is killing him. Okay, it’s not literally killing him, but still.

The drive from Suki’s house to his would be plenty grounds for the DMV to revoke his license, but Sokka can’t bring himself to care. He can hear Katara chastising him for being so reckless in the back of his head. It makes him laugh audibly. 

By the time Sokka finally pulls into the driveway of his house, he’s practically leaping out of the seat. In his haste, he nearly forgets to put the car in park, which would earn him months of ridicule if there were any passengers.

He can see shadows moving in the kitchen and a grin reappears itself on his face. 

Grabbing his bag from the backseat, Sokka bounds towards the house and flies inside, throwing the door open with an admirable amount of gusto. 

“Dad!” He exclaims emphatically. “Bato!” Sokka finds them in the kitchen and instantly throws his arms around his dad. Hakoda laughs easily.

“How are you, son?” Sokka finally releases his vice grip, exhaling.

“Tired. Suki’s running a tight ship at practice these days.” He turns to give Bato a hug, which is instantly reciprocated.

“Eugh, Sokka you smell awful!” Katara enters the kitchen. He sticks his tongue out at her.

“Shove off, Katara.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Sokka, go on and put your things upstairs before dinner!” Gran Gran calls from the other room. “And shut the door!” Sokka grimaces at his dad, whose eyes crinkle as he smiles back. 

“You’d better get on that,” Hakoda says, “we’ll still be here when you get back.”

They’ll be there for a while, Sokka thinks pleasantly. It’s the recipe for a great couple of weeks. At least, he hopes so. 

Speedily, Sokka rinses off and throws on a change of clothes, depositing his school bag in his room before racing down the stairs to rejoin his family, who are now all seated around the dining table.

It’s nice to see the table this full. Not that it feels empty, per say, when it’s just him, Katara, and Gran Gran. But it certainly isn’t the same. Today it feels like family in the purest sense.

Unfortunately, this stability can’t last forever. It can’t even last one dinner, apparently.

About twenty minutes into the meal, after Sokka has finished recounting the soccer season in great detail and Katara has given everyone the rundown on the upcoming Model UN conference she’s helping to coordinate, they fall into an easy silence.

His father and Bato keep looking at each other nervously. Sokka’s sure they figure no one notices, but he’s much more perceptive than he’s often given credit for. Besides, his dad is the opposite of subtle right now. He can tell that Gran Gran sees it too; she keeps raising an eyebrow in their direction but doesn’t say anything. Katara, however, seems oblivious.

Hakoda clears his throat, engages in some sort of brief, silent communication with Bato, and stands up. Katara definitely notices the change in the atmosphere now, joining Sokka and Gran Gran as they look at him attentively.

“I have—well, Bato and I have an announcement,” he says. His dad seems more nervous than Sokka has seen him in a while. Hopefully it isn’t anything bad.

He makes the mistake of taking a rather large bite of chicken, right as his dad says “We’re engaged!”

Sokka promptly chokes on his chicken, sending himself into a fit of startled coughs. That’s definitely not what he was expecting.

Once he recovers enough to breathe without sputtering, Sokka can’t help the shocked expression that instantaneously appears on his face, his mouth open in a comical sort of way. 

It takes a couple minutes for him to realize: A) that no one’s talking and B) that he needs to say something.

Sokka throws a smile on his face, the easy one that shows up whenever he thinks about his family or friends, and looks towards Hakoda. “That’s great! I mean, surprising, but great! I love weddings! When did it happen? Who asked? I bet it was Bato…” he’s definitely babbling but it seems to be having the intended effect: putting his dad at ease.

He receives two greatful smiles in return, his dad looking legitimately relieved. Sokka wonders why he was so worried about their reactions. 

A glance across the table at Katara effectively quells those wonders. She’s fuming, arms crossed in a huff and avoiding eye contact with everyone. Sokka suddenly feels awkward again.

“I’m very happy for you both,” Gran Gran says gently. She’s most definitely aware of the current Katara situation. Sokka grimaces.

His dad seems to notice the lack of response, but he doesn’t have time to say anything, because Katara stands up suddenly. 

“I’m going to go call Aang.” Katara’s voice is unusually cold. It’s a tone she reserves almost exclusively for times when she feels betrayed, so Sokka recognizes it immediately. 

“Katara—“ their dad calls out, but it’s no use: she’s already halfway up the stairs.

They all sit there for a moment, wordlessly eating the rest of their food. Or, in Sokka’s case, pushing the food around on his plate. He’s not one to be wasteful, but his appetite has disappeared.

He truly is happy for his dad and Bato. Honestly, if he had looked a little bit closer over the past few years he probably would’ve noticed. It was only surprising because Sokka’s generally unobservat of romance, especially where the line is drawn between romance and friendship. He figures that’s why Toph and Suki are convinced that he likes Zuko. That’s an extremely unhelpful thing to be thinking about at the present moment but his brain has never been known for good timing. 

Sokka shakes his head. Time to re-focus on the situation at hand.

Smiling once more at his dad, he gestures to the stairs. “I’m gonna go check on her—I want to hear all about the engagement though! I know it was you who asked Bato! You can tell me that it was dad but I won’t believe either of you!” He doesn’t let the grin even slightly fade from his face until he’s at the top of the stairs. 

Katara’s room is at the end of the hallway, on the opposite side of the house from his. They’re both glad about this most of the time: Katara strongly dislikes Sokka's decision to blast sad music at all hours and Sokka strongly dislikes overhearing Katara and Aang being oogie on the phone and pretending they aren’t dating. He frowns. Are they still doing that? Sokka’s admittedly been a bit preoccupied the past few months with school and…Zuko. Whatever that means.

He knocks on Katara’s door. Once, twice, three times until she finally throws it open.

Without asking, Sokka pushes past her and proceeds to flop down on the beanbag chair that’s his unofficial seat in the room. He’s the only person who ever uses it, to the point where it’s formed itself to his back. Katara’s glare has murdered him three times over.

“I wasn’t joking Sokka. I want to call Aang, so get out!” 

“Mhmm and you’re totally not going to call him to talk about the fact that Dad is getting married, right? About why you’re actually upset?” Her glare somehow worsens. 

“How can you be so okay with this?” Katara exclaims. Sokka considers throwing back a quip, but elects to take a second.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it? We love Bato, I mean he’s practically like another parent already, and Dad seems really happy.” This was clearly the wrong thing to say, but Sokka doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already been said.

“We don’t need another parent! How can you all just forget about mom like that?”

“Katara, no one is forgetting mom." She scoffs.

“Yeah right.” Sokka’s scowling now too.

“No one can replace mom, and no one’s trying to. But Dad’s allowed to be happy,” he pauses “we all are.”

Looking back, Sokka will realize that nothing he could’ve said in that moment would’ve placated Katara’s anger, her deep sadness from the loss of their mom that healed like a broken bone that never got properly set, breaking and mending in a never ending cycle. Maybe if they had talked about this grief, the ugly and gruesome parts of it, before this they might’ve been able to avoid what happened next.

“Well,” Katara’s voice is an icicle “then I guess you didn’t love her like I did.” 

Sokka’s blood runs cold, rushing to his head and leaving him reeling. “Katara…”

“Go.” 

He does.

* * *

Zuko can immediately tell that something is up with Sokka.

He doesn’t normally consider himself particularly gifted at picking up emotional queues, but Sokka is practically spilling them.

(Or maybe Zuko just knows him well. No, surely that can’t be it).

Regardless of how he can tell, Zuko doesn’t quite know what to do with the information. He’s never been a very comforting person, never had anyone to learn without his mom. It’s been long enough now that he can barely remember the feeling.

But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help Sokka, for some reason. He has absolutely no idea where to start, but he wants to do something.

At first he considers asking Katara, but almost immediately decides against that particular idea, mostly because of the very noticeable distance between the siblings when they walk into school on Monday morning. 

“I’m blind and I can see that those two are pissed at each other!” Toph exclaims one day that week as he’s driving her home. “I’ve never seen it go on this long before, though.” Zuko just hums along in agreement. He hasn’t known either of the siblings long enough to gauge what a normal fight is for the two of them.

In reality, he has no concept of what a normal fight is for siblings in the first place. Zuko considers the question. Azula pushed him off the roof once, but he doubts Katara would ever do that to Sokka. 

(Zuko makes a mental note to check with Sokka to make sure, just in case.)

Their group of friends had planned to hangout in the upcoming weekend, well before whatever was currently causing problems between Sokka and Katara, and the plans seemed to still be on.

About one hour before they’re supposed to meet up that Friday, he gets a call.

“Sokka?” He’s fairly positive the other boy has never called him before.

“Zuko! Quick question: mind giving me a ride to Suki’s?” Zuko’s brow furrows. 

“Did something happen to your car?”

“My car? No, no, I just—don’t feel like driving.” That doesn’t feel like the whole story, but it’s enough.

“Alright, give me forty-five minutes.” He can feel Sokka grinning through the phone.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best! I officially owe you one midnight McDonald’s run!” Zuko laughs and ignores the way his ears feel hot. 

True to his word, forty-four minutes and thirty-six seconds later, Zuko’s car is parked in front of Sokka’s house. He’s never been before, but even seeing the outside feels strangely personal, like he’s somewhere that he shouldn’t be. 

Sokka has clearly come prepared, carrying a box of games in one arm and a liter of soda in the other. Hastily undoing his seatbelt, Zuko hops out of the car to help him load the stuff into the backseat.

Once they’re both settled, Zuko fights the urge to immediately ask Sokka what’s wrong. It would be fairly crass of him, but then again, Zuko has never claimed to be subtle or delicate with these types of things.

Mostly, he wants to know so he can figure out if there’s anything he can do to help. It’s a strange feeling. If you had told Zuko a year ago that he’d be sitting in a car with Sokka of all people and wanting to help him with his problems, past Zuko would’ve thrown a punch.

Thankfully that isn’t his go-to method of conflict resolution anymore. Although, if the circumstances were right—he’s brought out of this train of thought by Sokka.

“Zuko, you have a sister right?” Zuko almost veers off the road. He forgot that he told Sokka about Azula. Or well, about her existence. 

“I guess,” his reply is noncommittal and apparently amusing.

“‘You guess’ you have a sister?” Sokka asks, his tone teasing. Unfortunately, Zuko wasn’t joking.

“Well she’s definitely related to me,” Zuko grumbles, “but she hasn’t really been my sister in a long time.”

(A little voice in the very back of Zuko’s head asks him if this is truly Azula’s fault. He tells it to fuck off. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is: him and Azula have nothing in common other than a set of shared DNA. And Zuko wants to keep it that way, it’s better for everyone, regardless of what complicated emotions her recent appearance has brought up). 

Sokka considers this for a moment, letting the car be softly filled with the local 80s hits radio station that Zuko leaves on in his car whenever he forgets the AUX cord. 

“My dad’s getting remarried, or I guess just married? Does it count as getting remarried if your first partner is dead? I’m not sure, but yeah, Katara isn’t taking it very well.” He struggles to process this sudden influx of information, but Sokka is on a roll. “She said something to me, and I don’t know I guess I should just move on from it, but I can’t. I’ve been shrugging off talking to her at school and stuff but it’ll be pretty much impossible here without help. So, long story short, please help me avoid her at this thing?”

It’s a simple enough request, and not a particularly significant one by any normal metrics, but Zuko still feels a surge of an unfamiliar fondness. “Is there a way to do that inconspicuously?” Sokka laughs.

“Nope, definitely not. We’ll have to be extremely conspicuous. Suki and Toph will no doubt ridicule me for it later, but that’s a price I’m willing to pay.” He’s not sure what Sokka means by that, or why Suki and Toph would give him a hard time about it, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“Alright,” Zuko agrees, “I’m down.” Sokka smiles, but it still doesn’t seem as animated as he usually is. Whatever Katara said to him must be weighing on his mind. Or it could be something else entirely, Zuko reminds himself. No need to make unfounded assumptions about his relatively-new friend. “Are you happy? About your dad?” Zuko blurts out.

Sokka doesn’t tell him to fuck off, luckily. Instead, he considers it for a moment. 

“Yeah,” he finally says, “I am. But I think maybe I shouldn’t be.” The last part is quiet, and Zuko’s not entirely sure that he was meant to hear it. He frowns.

“Why shouldn’t you be happy for your dad? Is the person he’s marrying awful or something?” He’s not sure how these kinds of things work.

“No! No, Bato is great. It’s not that, it’s just—I don’t know.”

There’s a pause for a couple of minutes. Zuko makes a left turn. Sokka stares out the window.

“Aren’t weddings supposed to be fun?” He’s never been to a wedding but they always look lively in the movies. 

“That’s what I said!” Sokka’s voice is animated but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

They pull up to Suki’s house a few moments later, Zuko parking a few houses down. In actuality, he tried to park a lot closer but epically failed at wedging into the parallel parking spot an embarrassing number of times. He would love to say that he did this for Sokka’s benefit, delaying them from entering a potentially awkward situation, but Zuko genuinely can’t parallel park.

Pretty much no one can parallel park, though. Zuko’s only done it once successfully in his entire life and, miraculously, it happened to be during his driving test. It’s not completely his fault though: his left eye has approximately zero depth perception even with corrective lenses. 

Besides, the only person he’s ever seen do it consistently is Uncle, and Uncle is the exception. Although, he’s sure Azula could if she ever had the need to drive anywhere by herself.

Sokka seems nervous. About two months ago Zuko would’ve questioned this, but he’s learning that Sokka is much less carefree than he seems. 

“If you want I can talk to Katara,” Zuko offers “so she doesn’t try to talk to you.”

“That would be great, except I’m pretty sure she still kinda hates you,” Sokka says wryly. Zuko had forgotten about that particular detail. He makes a mental note to apologize to Katara later. “But thank you, really.” Zuko nods.

As they walk up to the front door, Zuko has an idea.

“Do you want to hear a joke?” 

“What?”

“A joke,” Sokka looks genuinely surprised, but nods anyways. Zuko’s mind is suddenly blank—it’s hard to focus on remembering anything when Sokka is staring at him so intently. 

“It’s my uncle’s joke really,” Zuko adds “I—uh, can’t remember how it starts but the punchline is “Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!”” He says in a bad imitation of his Uncle. This was poorly thought out.

Sokka stares at him blankly. Zuko scratches his head. “It’s funnier when Uncle tells it,” he says.

“That I believe,” Sokka’s face is unreadable. He’s not laughing, or even smiling, which were the intended effects. Zuko’s humour must be more broken than he thought.

When he looks at Sokka again, both of them frozen there on the front porch, there’s something else. Just a glimmer of it, flashing across his face like lightning. 

It’s quiet. Locusts buzz in the background. Zuko stares at Sokka. Sokka stares back.

As soon as the look appeared, it’s gone. But it makes Zuko think that maybe his idea wasn’t a complete failure.

“Shall we?” Sokka breaks the silence. Zuko nods.

Walking into the house feels like stepping into something else, something new. It’s uncertain, as most things are, but comfortable in a way Zuko hasn’t felt around someone new in a long time.

He hides a smile and takes off his coat. They’re going to be here a while.

* * *

Suki’s house has never felt less homey to Sokka than it does right now,

That includes their breakup, which now ranks number two on his list of “Most Awkward Things that Happened in Suki’s House.” It would still be number one if they hadn’t stayed friends afterwards. 

Granted, he’s being a bit dramatic. While there’s definitely a weird feeling in the air, no one is really saying anything about it.

He does catch Aang giving him concerned puppy dog eyes a couple of times, likely having heard Katara’s retelling of the events at least five times by now. It’s not like Sokka hasn’t had any tiffs with Katara since they’ve known Aang—in fact, quite the opposite. But something about this one feels different to Sokka. And while he isn’t quite avoiding Katara, per say, he’s definitely not seeking her out. Not yet.

The most probable reason that no one is saying anything about it is the fact that they can’t get in a word edgewise: Zuko has taken on Sokka’s usual role of telling vaguely absurd stories to fill the time until their pizza gets here.

Toph is extremely amused by this: less by the stories and more by the fact that it’s Zuko telling them. They are rather mundane stories, mostly about his uncle or about the time he got chased by a bunch of turtleducks (he has to admit, that one was pretty funny), but Sokka still finds himself enthralled. Probably because he hasn’t heard Zuko talk this much all at once like…ever. 

The others are clearly on the same page about this much. Suki keeps trying to make eye contact with him from the other side of the couch, which he expertly avoids. 

Luckily, their choice activity of watching a movie gives Sokka the perfect opportunity to not talk for two-and-a-half hours. Normally he’d make comments throughout it (much to everyone else’s disdain) but today Sokka opts for silence. 

Unfortunately, this gives him plenty of time to ruminate.

There are two potential topics for him to agonize over now, though, thanks to Zuko being endlessly confusing. But somehow he’d rather think about anything but that. Including Katara and his mom. 

The thing is: Sokka does miss his mom. He’s never said it like Katara does, never really knew how to, but he feels it intensely. Articulating it, even in the safety of his own mind, feels wrong somehow.

It’s thirty minutes into the movie and Sokka needs a break.

Mumbling some excuse about getting a drink, he quickly maneuvers around everyone’s legs to climb out of their movie-viewing configuration and all-but scrambles to the kitchen.

He’s glad he knows his way around Suki’s house, and that her parents aren’t here so there’s no possibility of him running into them mid-breakdown. 

A glad of water helps, sort of. Sokka gulps it down expertly, pressing his hands into the edges of the counter and slumping over. He can recognize the signs: his heart is pounding, he has to stop himself from audibly gasping for air even though he knows he can breathe. For a split second, Sokka’s convinced he’s going to die, that he’s having a stroke or a heart attack or something.

Deep breaths, he reminds himself, but it’s pointless. He needs air.

Somehow he stumbles onto Suki’s back porch, closing the door quietly behind him, so no one hears. 

The crisp nighttime air is soothing. It helps, but the only thing that actually makes it better is time. 

He isn’t sure how long he’s out. Sokka tries one of those grounding techniques, but he can’t remember what three things he’s supposed to name that he can see, or hear or was it smell? 

Creaky door hinges sound behind him.

“Is the movie that boring, Snoozles?” Toph finds her way to the porch step, where he must’ve sat down sometime in the past five to thirty minutes, and plops down next to him. He forces out a laugh.

“No, definitely not.” They had been watching some action-adventure film, but Sokka had most certainly not been paying attention. 

“What gives? ” She nudges him with her shoulder, much more gently than she would if he wasn’t so evidently having a moment. 

A moment passes. Sokka considers telling Toph it’s no big deal, that he’s stressed about exams or about college or something like that. Those wouldn’t necessarily be lies. He is definitely stressed about all of those things. But somewhere inside him, Sokka knows that he does want to talk about it.

“My mom died around this time, you know,” he says “I’m sure Katara’s talked about it before.” Toph nods. “Well, after she did, our dad was a mess. And Katara was the one to pick us all up,” he pauses “I think it affected her a lot and it’s probably why she talks about our mom so much—I mean, in a lot of ways she had to be a mom, which isn’t fair to put on a kid.”

Sokka pauses and looks up at the rising moon. He thinks of Yue, as always. He thinks of his mom—he tries to, anyways. This is what’s really been bothering him. 

“I haven’t told anyone this before,” his voice is even quieter now, but he knows Toph can hear him “but I’m not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. I just see Katara, whenever I try to picture her.” 

It’s one of his biggest, most deep-rooted fears, but Sokka doesn’t have to say that. Toph places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He wonders if that means he didn’t love her as much, if Katara is right. How can you love someone whose face you can’t remember? For what feels like the millionth time, Sokka tries to picture his mom—her, and not Katara—but his mind refuses.

Sokka thinks he might cry. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he lets the tears sting in the corners of his eyes, refusing them any movement. 

Toph doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give him false platitudes of hope or reassurances that they both know wouldn’t do anything for Sokka right now. She just sits with him. And lets him be.

He’s reminded in that moment how much he loves Toph. (She’d punch him if he said it, but the feeling is surely mutual).

Crickets chirp. Somewhere, in the distance, a siren can be heard. Sokka hopes that whoever the ambulance is going to is okay. The stars twinkle audibly.

Something rustles behind him, but no one is there when he turns around. Once piece of good luck, at least. Sokka’s not prepared to share this with anyone but Toph, at least not yet.

They don’t go back inside for a while afterwards, sitting in companionable silence on the step. He tries not to worry about what the others assume is going on. He tries not to worry that Katara might be right.

Instead, he finds familiar constellations. And, once his memorized supply runs out, Sokka makes new ones.

It feels like the eye of a hurricane.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: character brief experiences a panic attack (although it is not named), references to canonical child abuse but nothing graphic (zuko references his eye getting burned)
> 
> hi!!! 
> 
> school is kicking my butt but i have managed to trudge my way through this chapter (and tried not to think about how emotionally intense it's going to get from here)
> 
> i thought this part of katara and sokka's relationship wasn't fully explored in the show (plus the fact that she just...says that to him and they don't address it?) so i've decided to address it. we love katara and sokka, which means we explore their characters with as much nuance as a story about competitive high school bs can. 
> 
> also some bakoda, as a treat.
> 
> (if you see me replying to ur comment from two weeks to three months ago i am sorry for the delay i am just. yeah)
> 
> hope you all enjoy!
> 
> -vallie<3

**Author's Note:**

> (updates sundays (usually) )


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